A Stranger At The Door
by ImaLateBloomer
Summary: A young woman is thrown on Sherlock Holmes' doorstep during a storm. She does not know who she is or how she got there. Is she just another mystery for the consulting detective or is there more? Rated T just to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

A** STRANGER AT THE DOOR- CHAPTER 1- WHAT THE STORM BROUGHT**

A young woman is thrown on Sherlock Holmes' doorstep during a storm. She does not know who she is or how she got there. Is she just another mystery for the consulting detective or is there more?

* * *

Rain pelted the windows of 221B Baker Street, sounding like heaven had let loose an artillery barrage. Sherlock Holmes stood looking out the window, as if anything would be visible in the driving rainstorm.

He turned to Dr. Watson and said, "This is a deluge like I have never seen before."

"Yes, I expect Noah's Ark to float by any minute. I pity the poor soul who is out in this," Watson responded."It should make one thankful for..."

He was interrupted by what sounded like a very loud thump against the front door and Mrs. Hudson's cry, "Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson, please come down here at once!"

The two men ran down the stairs. There stood their landlady, the front door open and a woman laying half inside and half outside. Holmes and Watson pulled the woman inside. She was unconscious and soaked to the skin, her hair and clothes sticking to her.

Dr. Watson knelt closely to examine her. She was barely breathing. He felt her forehead and pulled his hand back quickly as if burnt. The woman had a raging fever. "She is alive, just barely though."

Holmes and Watson carried her upstairs to the spare room where the detective stored all sorts of curiosities from past cases.

Quickly assuming his role as a physician, Watson ordered."Holmes, move some of these things so we can place her on the bed. Mrs. Hudson, find a towel and some dry clothes. We must get her dry and warm as quickly as possible. I am afraid she might develop pneumonia."

Holmes busied himself clearing off the small bed. Mrs. Hudson quickly returned with towels, pillow, a blanket and one of her own nightgowns. She shooed the men out the room. Holmes did not have to be told twice. He fled the room. Watson protested, "Mrs. Hudson, I am a doctor!"

"Never the less Doctor, just leave so I can take care of this young woman. You may return when I have finished. Now go!"

He reluctantly left the room and joined Holmes in the sitting room.

Holmes had lit a pipe and was deep in thought when Watson sat across from him. He asked his friend, "Where did this woman come from and why was she thrown at our doorstep?"

Holmes remained silent and puffed on his pipe. It was a full minute before he simply said, "I don't know, but I intend to find out."

Mrs. Hudson called down to them, "You may come back up. I have the young lady tucked up in bed now."

Watson ran up the stairs with Holmes lagging behind. For Holmes, the presence of any woman in his home besides Mrs. Hudson made him extremely uncomfortable.

The young woman's breathing was labored and she thrashed about and moaned. For Dr. Watson, it was a heart wrenching sight. She might die this very night with strangers surrounding her. He sat down in the chair beside her bed and gently said, "Hello my dear, you are safe now. Just rest." He patted her hand. She grabbed his hand and would not let go. She sighed and relaxed.

He had spent many anxious nights sitting with sick patients and knew tonight would be no different. He told Holmes and Mrs. Hudson, "Go now. I will sit with her tonight. I will call if there is any change."

As Holmes and Mrs. Hudson descended the stairs he asked her, "Was there anything on the on the woman's person to indicate her identity?"

She pulled something out of her pocket and showed it to him. "The young lady was wearing this locket."

The small locket was on a delicate gold chain. The initial "V" was engraved on it. Holmes opened the locket. It was empty, containing. no picture. He handed it back to his landlady. "Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. Return it to her in the morning."

He returned to the sitting room and his pipe. "Good night Mrs. Hudson," he said as he waved her out of the room.

Like his friend, , Holmes would not sleep this night.

**And so it begins, my first Sherlock Holmes story. I do appreciated reviews and feedback. More to come, soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A STRANGER AT THE DOOR- CHAPTER 2**

Sometime during the night, the rain stopped. The light of a full moon shown through the window over the young woman's face and neck, highlighting the bruises there. "Bruises to the body will heal with time, "Watson thought. "But what of the damage to her spirit?" He felt her forehead. She was still burning up with fever.

The young woman began to have chills so fierce she shook the bed and cried out, "Please don't hurt me! I've done nothing to you!"

Watson touched her face gently and said, "It's alright. No one's going to hurt you now. You're safe here."

She pulled away from his hand. Her voice became louder and louder with each word she said. "No, no. Leave me alone! Let me go!"

Watson tried to calm her down. "Please believe me my dear, you are alright here. No one wants to harm you."

The sound of her cries brought Holmes bounding up the stairs and into the bedroom. "Is there nothing you can do for her Watson?"

Watson turned to his friend with an exasperated look on his face. "Holmes I am trying to help, but it is deuced difficult when she won't let me touch her!"

"Perhaps it would be better if she were in hospital where nurses could take care of her," Holmes suggested.

"Absolutely not! I do not want her in a ward full of other patients. Any nursing required can be done by myself, Mrs. Hudson and you, Holmes," Watson replied.

Sherlock Holmes was horrified at the suggestion that he assist in the care of the woman thrown at his front door. "Carry on Watson. She will be in good hands with _you and Mrs. Hudson_." He quickly made his way back to his pipe and the sitting room.

The remaining hours of the night passed quietly. Dr. Watson relaxed and fell asleep. When Mrs. Hudson entered the room at daylight, she startled him. He sat up in his chair and yawned. "Oh Mrs. Hudson you startled me. "

She put down a tray with a teapot and cups on the table beside the bed. "I am sorry to wake you Dr. Watson. I thought I should bring you some tea. How is the patient?"

He answered, "She had a difficult night. I hope we will be able to get her fever to go down. At the very least, we can make her more comfortable."

"Doctor, I will be glad to help you with her. Please tell me what you want me to do." Mrs. Hudson told him.

"Mrs. Hudson, please help me move her to the chair and then change the bed linens which have been on this bed for who knows how long, since no one uses this room. Once you have done that, we will put her back in bed."

They carefully guided the woman from the bed to the chair. Dr. Watson held her close as he and Mrs. Hudson led her to the chair.

She opened her eyes and looked around the room. "Where am I? How did I get here?"

Dr. Watson knelt down beside her. "You are at 221B Baker Street. Last night we found you lying at our front door. Do you remember anything before you came here?"

The woman shook her head and asked, "What it is my name?'

Mrs. Hudson told her, "We don't know your name my dear, but you were wearing this necklace when we found you. The locket has the letter "V" on it. Perhaps that will help you remember." She handed the necklace to her.

The young woman took the necklace from Mrs. Hudson and looked at it. "I don't remember."

Holmes appeared at the door. "Until you are able to remember, what should we call you? It is quite inconvenient to call you "young woman" or "miss" all the time."

She noticed the pitcher of water on the table. It was decorated with pictures of violets. She turned to him and said, "Call me Violet."

**I know this chapter is short, but at least the young woman has a name. Your reviews will encourage me as I start writing the next chapter. Thank you for reading my story! **


	3. Chapter 3

**STRANGER AT THE DOOR- CHAPTER 3**- **SIT WITH HER HOLMES**

Satisfied that the woman now had name, Holmes returned to the sitting room. As Watson and Mrs. Hudson helped Violet back to the bed, she asked. "Who is that strange man?"

"He is Sherlock Holmes. I share this house with him."

"It must be difficult for you to live with him."

Watson was amused at this observation, particularly since it was made by a stranger who had not even been there for 24 hours. "Yes, it can be at times. However, he does have good qualities."

Violet said, "Perhaps you will enumerate them for me at a later time. I am too weak to struggle with understanding him now." Violet turned to her side and promptly fell asleep.

"Doctor, I will go and prepare breakfast for you and Mr. Holmes. After you have eaten, perhaps you will rest. I will be happy to sit with Violet once I have finished my work in the kitchen," Mrs. Hudson told him.

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson."

When Watson came down to the sitting room, he found Holmes smoking and reading a newspaper. He had not touched his food. There were newspapers scattered on the floor around the small table where Holmes was sitting.

"Nothing! There is absolutely nothing about a missing woman that fits our guest's description in any of the papers. It's as if she dropped from the sky! " Holmes said in frustration as he tossed the newspaper on the floor and crushed his cigarette on the plate of uneaten food.

"She did not fall from the sky Holmes, but she was literally thrown on our doorstep. Why would someone deposit this young woman here in such a fashion?"

"I do not believe that this house was a random choice," Holmes told Watson. "There is more to this than someone discarding the woman as one would a piece of trash."

Mrs. Hudson happened to enter the room at the word "trash". She saw the newspapers littering the floor. "It appears, Mr. Holmes, that you have firsthand knowledge of the subject of trash!" She glared at him and waved her arm at the papers on the floor.

Watson shook his head and smiled to himself. He rose from the table. "I have had a long night and must have some rest before I go back to sit with Violet. Holmes please go upstairs and stay with Violet until Mrs. Hudson has finished her work in the kitchen and is able to sit with her."

Sherlock Holmes' eyes widened and he started to protest, but Watson said, "Come now, you look as if I have asked you to sit over a pit of snakes. Violet is sleeping and you only need call me or Mrs. Hudson if she awakens."

Before Holmes could object, Watson left the room and made his way to his bedroom.

Holmes went reluctantly to Violet's room. He stood at the doorway for several minutes watching her sleep before he sat down in the chair beside her bed. Her face was flushed and wet with perspiration, her light brown hair framed her face in a wild tangle like an untended garden. He reached to brush the hair away from her forehead, but pulled his hand back as if stung by a wasp.

Nightmares assaulted Violet's sleep. Faint and distant voices, darkness, water and pain. She could not escape them. They suffocated her. She was drowning. She desperately struggled to breathe.

Violet gasped and opened her eyes to see Holmes sitting there, studying her .She felt like a butterfly trapped in a bottle. This frightened her even more than the nightmares. She pulled herself up, trembling. "Where is Dr. Watson? Where is Mrs. Hudson?"

"Dr. Watson is resting and Mrs. Hudson is in the kitchen. What's the matter? There is no reason to be afraid of me? I mean you no harm."

She did not respond to him. Instead she closed her eyes and tried to calm herself. Several minutes passed before she opened her eyes and said to him, "Mr. Holmes, waking from a horrible nightmare with you looking at me, is frightful enough. I do not know you well enough to be afraid of you. I feel like an object you are examining under a magnifying glass. I sense from you that my presence is unwelcome although I cannot help how I came to be here.''

She turned away from him, but did not go back to sleep. Holmes knew the young woman spoke the truth about her presence being unwelcome. It had nothing to do with how she had come there, but the fact she was a woman.

An hour passed before Mrs. Hudson came to Violet's room. As soon as she arrived, Holmes quickly left without a word. She saw that the young woman was awake and seemed upset.

"Now my dear, did Mr. Holmes upset you? I'll have words with him," Mrs. Hudson told her.

"Yes he did. He did not say so, but I know he does not want me here."

Mrs. Hudson sat down in the chair next to the bed and took Violet's hand and patted it, "You are here through no fault of your own. He knows that."

"I wish I could believe that Mrs. Hudson. It would give me some peace of mind to hear that from him." Violet closed her eyes and gave herself over to sleep once more, praying there would be no nightmares again.

**What an awkward situation for Holmes- alone with a woman! This is the first time he has been alone with Violet, but it won't be the last. As always, thanks for reading. Your reviews are much appreciated!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A STRANGER AT THE DOOR- CHAPTER 4- THE GIFT**

Violet awoke to find Dr. Watson sitting beside her bed. In her mind, he symbolized peace, comfort and acceptance. Upon seeing his face, she smiled. "I am glad to see you."

Watson placed his hand on her forehead, checking to see if her fever had gone down. "Did you rest well?" he asked her.

"No," Violet sighed. "I had awful nightmares. When I awoke from them, Mr. Holmes was sitting beside me watching me as if I were a specimen on a slide. He told me he meant me no harm, but I feel that he wants to be rid of me."

"Violet, he is not what he seems. He "studied" you for clues to your identity and how you came to be here. He observes things most people miss."

"What could he possibly observe about me in this condition that would tell him anything he wants to know? Here I am, a woman who was thrown at your doorstep with nothing but the dress on my back and a necklace. I don't know my real name or where I came from.''

Her eyes moistened and a tear slid down her cheek. Watson took a handkerchief from his vest pocket and wiped her face. "Violet I am sorry for your distress. I can give you something to calm your nerves, if you like. It will help you sleep which you need for your body to heal."

She shook her head. "No, Doctor, not if it means I will be plunged once again into the nightmares. I am fearful of what they contain and fearful of what awaits me when I wake up. What I want now is to get up and leave this room for a few minutes to convince myself that there is more to the world than this room. Please help me up."

"Well against my better judgment and only for a few minutes," he told her. Watson helped Violet slowly stand up and put on a dressing gown that Mrs. Hudson had placed at the foot of the bed. For Violet, the descent down the stairs to the sitting room seemed like an eternity.

Holmes was standing at the window, smoking a pipe. He turned around to see Watson escorting her to the settee.

"Violet asked to come downstairs for a few minutes. I will ask Mrs. Hudson to bring tea."

"Tell her to bring tea only for yourself and the young lady. I am going out for an hour." He went to the coat rack , put on his coat and hat and left the house without further explanation.

Violet looked at Watson for an explanation for Holmes' abrupt departure. "Violet, I have lived with Holmes for a long time, but I still cannot explain the reasons for some of his behavior."

"Oh, it is no great mystery. I can explain it quite simply. He does not want to be in the same house much less the same room with me" she told him. "If it were not for you and Mrs. Hudson, he would have taken me to hospital or some other institution have them deal with me. Dr. Watson, your friend seems to be of another species, one that has the appearance of being human, but not the substance."

This statement about Holmes upset Watson. After all, for all his quirks, Holmes was his friend. But he kept it to himself. He excused himself from the room and called Mrs. Hudson for tea. When he re-entered the room, Violet had moved to Holmes' chair by the fireplace. Her head was against the back of the chair, her eyes closed.

"Violet, do you need to return to your bed? Perhaps coming down here was too much for you right now."

"No, I just wanted a place to sit where I could rest my head," she told. Violet opened her eyes and noticed some of the contents of the mantle, particularly the letters affixed to it with a jack-knife and the hanging slipper filled with pipe tobacco. Suddenly she realized she was in Holmes' chair. Violet started to get up, but Watson stopped her.

"It's alright Violet. Stay there until Holmes returns." He sat in the chair on the opposite side of the fireplace.

"Alright" She relaxed. In a minute, she had fallen asleep. Watson went to his desk and retrieved the journal in which he recorded Holmes' cases and began writing. After Mrs. Hudson brought the tea, the room was quiet save for the sound of Violet's breathing and his pen scratching across paper.

An hour passed this way until Holmes returned. He called out, "I am back Mrs. Hudson!" When got to the doorway of the sitting room, he saw Violet sitting asleep in his chair. Watson looked up from his writing and put his finger to his mouth to warn Holmes not to say anything.

Holmes heeded Watson's warning and said nothing as he approached Violet. He placed a small package in her lap. She opened her eyes , saw him standing there, then looked at the package in her lap. "What is this?"

"Something you have need of," he told her.

"What could I possibly have need of that he would purchase for me?" she thought. Violet opened the package to find a tortoiseshell set containing a hand mirror, hairbrush, comb and several hairpins and a pair of embroidered slippers. She put the slippers on her bare feet, then took the mirror and looked at herself and quickly put it in her lap.

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes, "she said in a whisper as she touched her hair. " I must look like Medusa with my hair in this state."

He made no response to her statement. Instead Holmes said, "Perhaps, it is time for you to return to bed. You look very pale."

As soon as she stood up she began to feel faint. She fell against Holmes. He had no option but to catch her to keep her from collapsing on the floor. "Watson!"

Watson crossed the room and took Violet into his arms. Holmes followed him as he carried her upstairs.

Once Watson had placed Violet on the bed he turned to Holmes and said, "I should not have let Violet leave her bed. She is still very weak. It is going to take some time before she is fully recovered."

"Yes. Look after her well, Watson." Holmes turned and left the room.

Mrs. Hudson met him at the foot of the stairs. She handed him a letter. "This came by the afternoon post."

It was addressed to him . No return address was written on the envelope. He tore it open and removed the letter.

_Dear Mr. Holmes,_

_I hope your "gift" was received relatively undamaged. _

**Hmm...an unexpected gift for Holmes. Please review if you are so inclined. Thank you!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A STRANGER AT THE DOOR- CHAPTER 5- THE RABBIT HOLE**

Holmes returned to the sitting room and threw himself into his arm chair. He reread the letter at least a dozen times as if to extract more from it than the mere two sentences it contained. It was typewritten on cheap paper. The postmark on the envelope was so smudged as to be undecipherable. In frustration he threw it on the floor. "Bah!"

When Watson came in the room several hours later, Holmes was smoking his pipe with such ferocity that it seemed that he would break off the stem of the thing with his clenched teeth. A haze of smoke filled the room. Watson's loud cough brought him out of his reverie. He pointed to the letter on the floor. "Have a look at this letter. It came in the afternoon post."

Watson picked up the letter. He read it aloud.

_Dear Mr. Holmes,_

_I hope your "gift" was received relatively undamaged. _

"There is no signature. Was there a return address?"

Holmes pointed again to the floor indicating the envelope. Watson bent down and picked it up. He huffed. Sometimes Holmes' economy with words was highly annoying. Why couldn't he just give a simple answer to a simple question! He handed the letter and envelope back to Holmes and sat in the arm chair across from him.

* * *

Violet slept the remainder of the afternoon. When she awoke it was twilight. Mrs. Hudson was sitting in the room with her. "Hello my dear. Are you hungry? I could bring you a tray after I serve Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson their dinner."

"Yes, Mrs. Hudson, I am hungry. But please allow me to go downstairs with you. I cannot bear to lay here another moment!"

"Alright Violet, but I don't think that Dr. Watson will be happy about it."

"Mrs. Hudson, Dr. Watson may not be happy about it, but he will understand. It is Mr. Holmes that you are truly concerned about, is it not?"

The landlady laughed, "Yes you are quite right! Nevertheless, I will chance his wrath! Are you willing to do so as well?"

Violet smiled. "Yes I am Mrs. Hudson, lead on!"

When Mrs. Hudson and Violet entered the sitting room, Holmes glared at them. Mrs. Hudson was used to this behavior from Holmes and ignored him. "Violet asked to come and join you for dinner."

Watson immediately got up from the table and pulled out a chair for Violet. "Thank you Dr. Watson. Good evening to you Mr. Holmes." Holmes acknowledged her presence with a nod and a grunt. She glanced at Watson and saw him trying to hide a smile behind his hand as he cleared his throat.

An awkward silence descended the room and remained until Mrs. Hudson returned with the food. For the first time since she had arrived at Baker Street, Violet truly felt hungry. Somehow she restrained herself from going at the food like a farm hand. She had a sense that young ladies did not eat their meals that way. Where did that sense of propriety come from? Was it some vague memory? Violet pushed the thought away from her mind but ate as slowly as she could possibly make herself.

When she finished eating, she looked up to see Holmes watching her intently. Involuntarily, she trembled. Watson saw this and touched her arm. "Violet are you alright?"

"Yes," she whispered.

Holmes said, "I observe by your speech and your table manners that you have been brought up in a middle class family. Your accent is American, from the southern region of that country. You are approximately 25 years of age…."

Watson cut him off. "Holmes! This is no time to deduce anything about Violet! Can you not see that you are making her feel uncomfortable?"

Holmes shrugged and mumbled, "My apologies…" Suddenly he called out, "Mrs. Hudson!"

Mrs. Hudson appeared at the door to the sitting room. "Yes, Mr. Holmes. What do you want?"

He got up and went to the desk and took out a chequebook. Handing it to her he said, "I have an errand for you. Tomorrow, I want you to go and purchase clothing for the young lady. She cannot go around this house all the time in nightclothes."

"Mr. Holmes, this will be a large expense. She has need of everything from undergar…."

Holmes raised his hand to stop her. "Thank you Mrs. Hudson. Disregard the cost. I will leave this errand in your very capable hands."

"Very well, Mr. Holmes." She huffed and quickly left the room.

Both Watson and Violet were smiling, struggling not to laugh at this scene between Holmes and Mrs. Hudson. "It is remarkable that one moment he frightens me and the next he amuses me. I do not know my name or where I am from. I must truly be ill for I feel as if I have fallen down Alice's rabbit hole and I am hallucinating" she whispered to the doctor. Before Holmes returned to the table, they assumed sober expressions, although not without some difficulty.

Violet stood up to leave the table. "Well good night Mr. Holmes. I do not want to cause you further distress by my appearance in these nightclothes." Watson got up and took her elbow to guide her out of the room and up the stairs. Once out of Holmes' sight she leaned heavily on Watson's arm. "Why would I remember _Alice in Wonderland, _but not anything about myself?"

**I know this chapter is a little shorter than the last one. There's not as much suspense this chapter, but a bit more humor. As usual Holmes is Holmes- a walking, sometimes talking contradiction. No wonder Violet feels as if she has fallen down Alice's rabbit hole! Thank you Kind Readers for you****r ****continued support!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A STRANGER AT THE DOOR- CHAPTER 6**- **THE ROOM WHERE I WAS BORN**

In the morning, Mrs. Hudson came to Violet's room before she left on her shopping expedition. "Good morning Violet. Before I go on this errand for Mr. Holmes, I would like to take your measurements so I will have some idea of the size clothes and shoes you need."

When Violet got out of bed, she was glad to notice that she felt a little better. "Thank you Mrs. Hudson for shopping for clothing for me. I know Mr. Holmes has given you carte blanche to purchase anything I need, please do not wear out yourself. Just get what is absolutely necessary. If he is not satisfied by your choices, I will be. Besides he will not be wearing the clothes."

Mrs. Hudson laughed, "I see your sense of humor is alive and well, you seem to enjoy Mr. Holmes' discomfort when you are around him!"

Violet thought about this observation and grinned. "Yes I do. I wonder if I have always been this way with difficult men?"

"Mmm... When you discover who you are you will know my dear."

After Mrs. Hudson had taken the needed measurements and left to go shopping, Violet went down to the sitting room. Holmes was sitting alone at the table. "Good morning Mr. Holmes. Where is Dr. Watson?"

Holmes did not look up to answer her. He continued reading his newspaper. "He has gone out to attend to a patient."

Violet poured herself a cup of tea and walked to the window. It was the first time she had looked out to see what was beyond the four walls of the house. An odd feeling crept over her. She truly had no idea where she was. Violet took a sip of tea and returned the cup to the saucer with a shaking hand. "Mr. Holmes where am I?"

He put the newspaper down and looked at her. The expression on her face was a cross between confusion and terror. She asked him once more, her voice becoming louder and more agitated with each word she uttered "Where am I? What place is this? What city is this?"

Holmes got up and led Violet to the table and sat across from her. She looked down at her hands placed on the table. "Look at me," he gently ordered her. When she did not responded, he touched her face and lifted her chin so she would be looking at him. "Violet, look at me."

It was the first time he called her by name. This in itself was enough to somewhat draw her up from the deep well of fear she had so suddenly been plunged into. "Mr. Holmes, I ask you, what place is this? When I looked out the window, I saw absolutely nothing I recognize. Is this a waking nightmare?"

He saw no reason not to give her a straightforward answer to her first question. As to the second question, the answer to that was beyond his depth.

Holmes left the table and returned with an atlas. A page was opened showing a map of Europe, North America and the Atlantic Ocean between them. He pointed to England and then London. "This is where you are now. And judging by your accent, you are from somewhere here."He ran his finger across the Atlantic Ocean and rested it on the lower right hand corner of the United States.

Moments passed as Violet allowed her mind to digest this information. "How came I here? I do not remember anything of an ocean voyage." The despair that had descended upon her earlier became overwhelming. She sobbed and struggled to breathe as if drowning.

Holmes pulled her up from the chair and led her over to the settee. How he devoutly wished that Watson or Mrs. Hudson would appear to rescue him from this overwrought woman!

His wish was granted almost the moment he made it. Watson entered the house and came in to the sitting room to see Holmes standing over the sobbing woman. "What in the devil have you done to her Holmes?"

"Nothing Watson! I have done nothing to her. She has come to the realization that she does not know what city, nay not even what country she is in. I showed her this." He pointed toward the atlas lying open on the table. Watson glanced at the atlas, then back at Holmes.

This woman's problems were beyond Watson's scope as a GP. Perhaps a specialist should be called in to see her, but he felt very protective of her and did not want to expose her to any other strangers until she was stronger. She was very vulnerable, both in body and mind.

"Bring her brandy Holmes," Watson ordered. Holmes poured out the brandy and handed it to Watson. "Here Violet, drink this and then I will help you back to bed." She took a drink. It felt like liquid fire going down her throat. If it would burn out her fear, she would consume an ocean of it.

Violet drank every drop of brandy the glass contained. Watson took the empty glass out of her hand and gave it to Holmes. He helped her up from the settee and led her out of the sitting room and up the stairs back to her room.

Once Violet was back in bed, Watson started to leave. "Don't go," she begged him. "I don't want to be alone. Please don't go." He complied with her plea and sat down in the chair beside the bed. She reached out and grabbed his hand. "I was born here, don't let me die here."

"Violet what do you mean you were born here?" he asked her.

She looked up at him. "It is as if I did not exist until I awoke in this room. Like an infant, I came here with no name and no knowledge of where I came from. If I do not find out who I am, I will die here, for I have no desire to continue on like this."

Watson leaned down and gently kissed her forehead. "You will not die here Violet. I will make sure of that. Please close your eyes and rest. I will be right here."

**Once again, Holmes is left alone with Violet. He may be inclined not to let Watson or Mrs. Hudson out of the house again! Surely this stranger in his house is, to quote Winston Churchill- "a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma." I thank you dear Readers for your reviews and encouraging words!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A STRANGER AT THE DOOR- CHAPTER 7- WATER AND MEMORY**

After Watson had taken Violet upstairs, Holmes spent the afternoon pulling out maps, books and newspapers. When one item failed to yield the information he was seeking, he tossed it aside and picked up another one. They covered the sitting room floor llike snow left by a blizzard.

Mrs. Hudson entered the house laden with packages. A little boy followed her with a stack of parcels taller than he was. She came up the stairs followed by the boy struggling to hold on to his parcels. Mrs. Hudson made the mistake of glancing at the scene in the sitting room. Holmes was sitting cross legged in the middle of the mess he made scowling and smoking a pipe. She shouted, "Mr. Holmes!"She did not stop to chastise him, but continued up to Violet's room.

When Watson saw all the parcels, he jumped up from the chair beside Violet's bed to assist Mrs. Hudson in finding a place to put them. He gave the boy a tip and sent him on his way. "I don't know where I can put all this in this "glorified closet''. Mr. Holmes' "things" have got to go somewhere else!" she huffed.

Violet opened her eyes and sat up. "My goodness, it appears that Santa Claus has been here!" Watson smiled to see her childlike delight.

Mrs. Hudson ordered, "Alright Dr. Watson, you can leave now. I have Violet in hand." She winked at Violet and the doctor made a quick exit from the room.

Mrs. Hudson had made a thorough job of shopping for Violet. There were two blouses and skirts, a corset, petticoats, nightgown, dressing gown, a jacket, a hat and a pair of shoes. "Now my dear, I will draw you a bath."

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson!"

* * *

When Watson entered the sitting room, Holmes was still in the middle of the floor. He had a book in his hand. "Watson I would like for Violet to look at this book," Watson took the book from Holmes and noticed the title- _Cities of the American South_. It was a large book containing mostly photographs of various cities. He flipped through the book. "Atlanta, Charleston, New Orleans, Mobile, Richmond, Savannah. Are you hoping she will recognize any of these places?"

"Yes," Holmes answered. "If this yields no result in triggering her memory, then we will move on to something else."

"Whatever you do Holmes, proceed with caution. Do not push her for answers she does not have now," Watson admonished him. "If you press her too far, you may never find out anything about Violet. Her mental state is precarious."

Holmes sighed, "Yes Watson, you are the physician. I will defer to your wishes."

Watson heard what Holmes told him, but did not believe it.

* * *

Violet entered the bathroom. She stepped into the tub and looked down at the water. A memory flashed through her mind. It was of falling, falling and deep, inky black water. She shuddered and moved to get out of the tub, but looked down at the clear calm water she was standing in and sat down to bathe. She made herself relax and took her time. When she got out of the tub, she went to dress.

"Oh Mrs. Hudson, thank you for drawing the bath for me. It feels so good just be clean and warm and safe. If I never find out who I am, the kindness you have already shown to me by you, Dr. Watson and Mr. Holmes would be enough. Now I have a small favor to request. Please help me with this awful hair of mine!" Violet held out a few strands of hair in disgust.

"Alright my dear," Mrs. Hudson chuckled and pointed to the chair. The ten minutes Mrs. Hudson spent brushing out her hair was heaven to Violet. Instead of pinning up her hair, Violet tied it back in a ribbon Mrs. Hudson had bought for her. Then she set to the task of dressing- undergarments , stockings, then a skirt , blouse and shoes. "I hope I look alright, " Violet said. Mrs. Hudson smiled and said, "Yes you do my dear!"

"Well then, Mrs. Hudson, I am ready to make a "grand entrance" in the sitting room." She smiled and they both descended the stairs and Violet went into the sitting room. Upon seeing Violet, Watson immediately stood up. Holmes did not, however. Watson cleared his throat and whispered out the side of his mouth. "Holmes! Stand up when a lady enters the room!" Holmes jumped up as if shot from a cannon.

Violet hid a smile behind her hand. "Hello Dr. Watson, Mr. Holmes."

Watson led her over to the settee. She noticed a rather large book sitting there. Violet picked it up and looked at the title. "_Cities of the American South. _Why is this here?"

As Watson sat down next to her he said, "Holmes thought if you look at the photographs of the cities in this book, you might recognize something that might give a clue as to where you are from."

She sat for a half hour looking through the book. With each city she came to in the book she looked at each picture carefully. Atlanta, Nashville, Mobile, New Orleans. Nothing about them looked familiar to her. When she turned to the pages for Charleston and Savannah, she paused and looked at each picture several times, studying them intently. Something stirred in the back of her mind, but it was so faint as to be ghostlike. "Most of these cities seem unknown to me. There is something about Savannah and Charleston that is … I do not know how to express it. "Familiar" does not seem to be the proper word for it."

Holmes said, " is a place to start. Do you remember anything about the house you lived in or family or friends?"

Distress began to show on Violet's face. Holmes seemed oblivious to this. His interest was in getting answers from her. Watson stopped him before he could proceed any further with his questions. "Violet are you tired?" Holmes shot him a dirty look which Watson returned. Somehow this exchange between the two men amused her. Her distress drained away and she could not help but laugh.

She looked directly at Holmes, but made her answer to Watson."No, I am not tired. What I am is thirsty. I would like a cup of tea."

**Violet is starting to remember things, although not fast enough to suit Holmes! God bless Watson for keeping him from going too far. Thanks for the lovely reviews. I really appreciate them! By the way, since Violet is American I had her use the name Santa Claus instead of Father Christmas when she sees all the packages Mrs. Hudson had brought to her.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A STRANGER AT THE DOOR- CHAPTER 8- NOT FOREVER**

After dinner, Violet went to the settee and looked through _Cities of the American South _once more. Watson was in his chair by the fire smoking a cigar, Holmes opposite him deep in thought. It was a perfect picture of domesticity, a family enjoying a quiet evening.

An hour later, the companionable silence was broken when Violet looked up from the book and said, "Every time I look at these photographs, I continue to be drawn to the ones of Charleston and Savannah." Holmes looked up at her. "Yes, you have what is called a "Low Country" accent peculiar to Charleston and Savannah. That would be a reason for your interest in those two cities."

Violet took a moment to absorb this piece of information from Holmes. "Are you saying that I am from one of those two cities?"

Holmes sighed, "It is far too early to draw that conclusion. It would be a grave mistake to do so. I only mean that your interest in Savannah and Charleston seems natural due to your accent."

"Oh," she whispered. "This search for my identity may take forever."

Holmes responded, "Not forever. You exaggerate as your gender is likely to." At that remark Watson cleared his throat and looked at his friend, but Holmes paid no attention to him and continued on." It will take some time. But the answer will come. I do not deal in "forevers", Holmes told her.

"He surely does not want it to take forever," she thought. "I do not think he could bear to have me around him that long!" Violet stood up and tossed the book on the settee. "Good night, gentlemen". She ran up the stairs to her room as fast as her sore body would permit.

She threw herself down on the bed and curled up in a ball. Hot, silent tears trickled down her face. "Violet, I am sorry." She turned to see Watson standing in the doorway. He crossed the room and sat down in the chair beside her bed. "As your doctor and your friend, I advise you to steel yourself and ignore the way Holmes behaves sometimes. He is not capable telling the truth in such a way as not to bruise the hearer's spirit."

"Yes, you are right," Violet told him. "I will try to do so starting tomorrow. And speaking of tomorrow, I would like to go outside and feel the sun and breeze on my face. I want to see more of this world I into which I have landed."

Watson smiled at her, "I think that can be arranged. Good night, Violet." As he walked away from her bedside, she said, "Good night my friend."

* * *

The next morning Violet was up early, dressed and in the sitting room with Holmes and Watson waiting for Mrs. Hudson to bring breakfast.

Watson saw the eager, almost childlike expression on her face. "You must be excited at the prospect of going out today? I do suggest that it be a short walk today and we can progress to longer walks as time passes and you get more of your strength back."

"Yes, I am looking forward to going outside, even for a short time," she told him.

Mrs. Hudson brought in breakfast. Holmes was already seated at the table reading the newspaper and smoking a cigarette. To Violet, this appeared to be part of the morning routine for Holmes and Watson. She smiled and thought, "This is the stuff of daily life, the habits, routines, and things one takes for granted when they have lived with another person for a long time." A wave of melancholy for something she could not remember swept over her. What was it like to have family, people you lived with, who knew you and loved you?

When Violet approached the table, Watson pulled out her chair for her and then seated himself. This small gesture on his part seemed to her a token of acceptance. "Thank you Dr. Watson."

He asked Holmes, "Are you planning to join us when Violet and I go for a walk?"

Holmes was silent for a moment. He simply said. "Yes". Then he went back to reading the newspaper.

Watson and Violet were the first ones out the door. Holmes followed, but he walked so much faster than they did that he almost collided with them several times. Finally, Violet stopped walking and turned around to face him. "Perhaps, you would like to lead the way since you walk at a brisker pace than I do "

"Yes," he responded and moved to walk ahead of them. As he walked away from them, she whispered to Watson, "My goodness. He must be rationing his words today, for I have only had two words from him this morning and they are the same one. Not very original. He is miserly with words!" Watson laughed at this observation of Holmes.

Violet took the time to look at her surroundings along the way. She wanted to see this bit of London where she had landed. In Violet's mind "landed" seemed the best description of how she arrived at 221B Baker Street. He was somewhat surprised that she showed little interest in the milliners and dress shops they passed by. Instead, she paused in front of a book shop, looking in the window. Watson asked her, "Would you like to go inside?"

"Yes,yes I would." They stepped inside the shop. Violet walked around, looking at the books. Watson observed that occasionally she would stop and pull a book off the shelf, look at its cover, flip through the pages and slowly return it to its place. He walked over to asked her, "Violet, would you like to have a book?"

Violet turned to him, her eyes shining. "Oh, yes. This one would suit me." She reached for a book and pulled it off the shelf. It was _Alice in Wonderland. _She smiled knowingly at Watson. The joy he saw on her face caused him to encourage her to choose several more titles. Once that was done, he paid for the books and they left the shop.

Holmes was waiting outside for them with a package under his arm which he then unceremoniously handed to Violet. She looked at the package and them up at him. Before she could ask him what the package contained, he said, "It is a journal and a pen. Perhaps, if you write down anything you remember, it will help to expedite the solution to this case."

She was taken aback at his bluntness and thought, "So, I am a case to him? That's all. Once he finds the solution he can be rid of me." Violet remembered what Watson had told her the night before and did not verbally react to the remark. If her eyes had been daggers though, Holmes would have been mortally wounded.

As they approached the house, Holmes saw Mrs. Hudson let someone inside. When the three of them entered the house, Holmes pointed at the stairs. "Go to your room, we have a visitor." It was clear by the expression on his face that he expected her to comply without question. Watson handed her the books and journal .Violet said a quiet, "Thank you." She muttered to herself as she climbed the stairs, "Well if he cannot be rid of me, now he is going to hide me away from other people!"

**Why would Holmes want to Violet "hidden away"? Could it be a sense of Victorian propriety or something else altogether? As always, thank you dear reader for your interest. If possible, please do me a kindness and review this chapter. Thank you!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A STRANGER AT THE DOOR- CHAPTER 9- PROPRIETY**

When Violet got to her room, she was both hurt and furious. "What have I done that Holmes should want to hide me away?" She sat in the chair with her clinched fists, her nails digging into the palms of her hands. She fumed for a while longer then gave up the fight and took a nap.

It was getting dark outside when she awakened. Her stomach growled. She was hungry, but what to do about it? Holmes had sent her upstairs with no indication as to when she could come downstairs again. She walked to the doorway of her room trying to decide if she should wait to be called downstairs for dinner or go on down and brave Holmes' wrath. Her stomach growled again and gave her the answer. "I am going downstairs and if he is angry with me, so be it!" Violet walked downstairs and into the sitting room.

Watson stood and pulled out a chair out for her at the table. "Violet I looked in on you about an hour ago and you were sleeping so soundly that I hesitated to wake you. I had planned for Mrs. Hudson to bring you a tray a little later this evening."

"Thank you, Dr. Watson. It was very kind of you to be concerned that I have dinner." Violet turned to Holmes formulating in her mind what she would say to him. A little voice in her mind whispered a reminder, "Young ladies do not yell. They do not engage in dramatic behavior." Violet mentally waved away this little voice as if swatting at an annoying insect. She drew in a deep breath. "Mr. Holmes, why did you send me upstairs so abruptly when we returned to the house this morning?" He started to speak but she held her hand up to stop him. "Sir, do not interrupt me until I finish what I have to say. My memories of how gentlemen are supposed to behave may be hazy. But this much I do know, without a doubt, you are the rudest man God has seen fit to put upon this earth!"

For Watson, the stunned expression on Holmes' face was priceless and not one soon to be forgotten. He put his napkin up to his mouth to keep from laughing out loud. To add to his amusement, he saw his friend open and close his mouth several times like a fish out of water gasping for air.

Holmes composed himself and spoke. "What I did was for your protection young woman, both for your physical safety and to safeguard your reputation."

Some of her anger drained away and with a much calmer voice she asked, "What do you mean?"

"Firstly, we do not know if the person or persons who "cast" you here at still at large seeking to do you further harm. And for the moment, consider the sudden appearance of an unmarried young woman in a house with 2 bachelors that are not related to her. To many, it would seem highly improper."

A word surfaced in Violet's mind- "propriety". "Mr. Holmes, are you concerned with my reputation or yours?"

Holmes huffed. "I am concerned about yours. You are of a marriageable age and by chance you remain in London after the mystery of your identity is solved, it would greatly ruin your chances for a suitable husband. Besides, I do not want tongues wagging that you are being kept here for immoral purposes. "

"Oh, I think that it would be unlikely for anyone to think that, even if you had a harem closeted away upstairs. You want to be rid of me by any means necessary even if it means marrying me off to some man!" she hissed.

Watson interrupted this disputatious conversation between Holmes and Violet. "I have an idea that might serve to answer the question about Violet being here with two unmarried men not related to her. It will call for this fiction; she can be a relative of Mrs. Hudson come from America for an extended visit. Now as to your surname Violet, what shall that be?"

Violet thought for a moment. Suddenly she remembered the author of _Alice in Wonderland, _Lewis Carroll. "Carroll. I am Miss Violet Carroll come to visit Mrs. Hudson, my dear aunt in London."

"Very well," said Holmes. "That particular matter is settled. As to your safety, you are not to venture forth from this house at any time without being accompanied by Dr. Watson or myself. And under no circumstances are you to enter this sitting room when there are other people here. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mr. Holmes. I quite understand," she told him.

The rest of the meal proceeded in an uncomfortable silence. Once Violet was finished she got up from the table. "I think I would like to read this evening. I must go to my room."

"Good night Miss Carroll, "Holmes said a little too eagerly.

She turned to him and flashed an insincere smile. "Oh, I intend to bring the book down to the sitting room to read. I do not wish to spend the evening alone."

Violet returned to the sitting room with a book titled _A Brief History of the United States of America _and went to the settee. For a while she tried to read, but a distracting thought crept into her mind and try as she might to dismiss it, it would not go away and she was determined to know. "Who was here when we returned from our walk?"

"No one of any consequence to you," he answered and abruptly left the room.

Violet sighed and threw the book down on the settee. She leaned forward and asked Watson, "Why did he say it was no one of any consequence to me? What would it matter if I knew this person's identity, seeing presently I only have knowledge of three people in this wide world; yourself, Mr. Holmes and Mrs. Hudson?"

"Violet, Holmes is a consulting detective. Clients come to him trusting in his discretion."

"Hmph, they may trust his discretion, but does he in turn trust anyone else?" She leaned back on the settee, arms crossed. Watson got up from his chair and sat beside Violet. He turned to her and gently said, "Violet, Holmes can deduce many things about you. However, he can only learn to trust you through experience."

She sighed, "What a wise man you are. I have behaved like a spoiled, petulant child which I sense is not proper behavior for young ladies."

He smiled at her fondly. "Both you and Holmes have a lot to learn."

**Violet was being a little on the bratty side, wasn't she? That voice of proper behavior for young ladies in her head got squashed and caused Sherlock Holmes to get a tongue lashing from Violet! God bless Watson, at least he gets some amusement from the interchange between Holmes and Violet. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing. Please continue!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A STRANGER AT THE DOOR- CHAPTER 10- TELL ME YOUR NIGHTMARE**

Holmes did not return to the sitting room until Violet had gone upstairs to bed. He sat in his chair by the fire and started smoking his pipe. Watson asked him, "Holmes, is Miss Carroll going to be a three pipe problem for you?" He smiled.

Holmes grunted and blew out smoke. "What she is Watson, is a conundrum. Before she is gone from this house for good, she may well be a hundred pipe problem!"

Watson reminded his friend. "You have dealt with different women over the years, but never with one in this particular situation. This is the first time you have had a woman living under the same roof as you with the exception of Mrs. Hudson."

Violet was so emotionally exhausted when she went to bed, that she did not even bother to change into a nightgown. It was not long before she was sound asleep. For the first few hours it was a sleep without dreams. Then the nightmare came. In the dream she was alone at night walking along a bluff overlooking a river. The moon was full and gave plenty of light for her to see where she was walking. Suddenly someone approached her from behind and pushed her into the dark water. Plunging deeper and deeper down in the water, she struggled to swim to the surface, but some force held her down. At the moment when that force was about to overpower her and cause her to drown, Violet woke up. She sat up gasping for air, her heart racing.

Too terrified to go back to sleep, she carefully made her way downstairs in the darkened house. The only light visible in the sitting room came from a fire in the fireplace and the glow of Holmes' cigarette. He was seated in his chair beside the fireplace.

Holmes said nothing to her as she entered the room. Violet went over to the settee and sat down as quietly as possible. Time seemed to slow down to a crawl. The only sounds to be heard were Violet breathing and Holmes exhaling cigarette smoke.

No longer able to contain her fear and frustration, Violet whispered," Curse this nightmare! It is the same one I have had several times since I came here."

Holmes leaned forward in his chair. "Describe it to me."

Violet looked up at him and hesitated before speaking. Retelling it was almost as if she were having the dream again. "In this awful dream, I am alone walking along a bluff overlooking a river. The moon is full. I can see where I am walking without stumbling. Suddenly someone approaches me from behind and pushes me into the river's dark water. As I plunge deeper and deeper, I struggle to rise to the surface, only to have some unseen force push me down as if to drown me. At that point, I awaken."

"Was there anything about this particular time that was different in the dream?"

"Yes, the part about someone behind me, pushing me into the river. The other times, the dream began with me falling."

"Does this person who pushes you in the water say anything to you?"

"No, there is no sound in the dream, not even a splash when my body hits the water."

"If this nightmare, this dream comes again to you, it will show more to you."

"I do not want there to be a next time. I would just as soon never sleep, if I must travel to that dark place again!" The tone of her voice was full of fear. She lay down on the settee and turned toward the fire, staring into it.

Holmes could offer her no words of comfort. He got up, went to his bedroom took a blanket from his bed and covered Violet with it. When he pulled the blanket up around her neck she grabbed his hand, looked into his eyes and said, "Thank you." Holmes moved his hand away gently and said, "Rest now, Violet."

Violet hovered between sleep and wakefulness for the remainder of the night with Holmes in his chair keeping a silent vigil over her.

* * *

When Watson entered the sitting room in the morning, he was surprised to see Violet lying on the settee. "Holmes, has she been here all night?"

"No, Miss Carroll came down here in the middle of the night. She told me of her recurring nightmare. It seemed this time there was more detail to the dream than the time before. If this nightmare occurs again, it may reveal even more about how she came to be here."

Watson was astonished at his friend's statement. "Do you mean it would be of profit for her to have this nightmare again? Who would willingly do that?"

Violet, not Holmes answered the question. "I would Dr. Watson, if it means it can help us find out what happened to me. I do not want to stay in this limbo of not knowing who I am or where I belong." She sat up and turned her face toward the two men. "Promise me this, when I wake from the nightmare that I will not be alone."

Without hesitation Watson said, "Of course Violet." Holmes nodded in agreement.

**Dear Reader, I know this chapter is brief. It seemed to want to stop at Violet being willing to experience the nightmare again. Can you imagine anyone willing to have the same nightmare more than once? There is more to come (and I don't just mean another nightmare). Thank you so much for your support!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A STRANGER AT THE DOOR- CHAPTER 11- MEANING AND MEMORY**

After breakfast, Watson left to attend to a patient and Holmes retreated to his room to take a nap. He would resist sleep until it so overpowered him that he had no choice but to give in to it.

Violet remained in the sitting room at the table looking at a newspaper Holmes had left there. She spent several minutes trying to read, but gave up in frustration. Her mind wandered back to the nightmare. She went over each detail over and over as if to burn it into her memory, then she recalled the journal Holmes had given to her. Instead of trying to commit each detail to memory, she could write them down.

Once she retrieved the journal from her room, Violet returned to the sitting room and sat down at the table. For the first time she noticed the cover of the journal. There were small violets embossed in gold on it. She traced her finger over each one of them and smiled to think that Holmes had chosen this particular one for her. She picked up her pen to start recording her memories of the nightmare. Sunlight streamed over her shoulder as she began to write. It felt good to sit in the light and make a record of the dream that haunted her in the darkness. However, retelling it on paper was as exhausting as it had been when she told it to Holmes in the middle of the night. Laying her pen aside, she sighed and put her head down on the table and slept for an hour. When she awoke, Violet stood up to move to the settee but paused to look out the window and was startled to see a young man standing across the street, his face lifted and looking up at her.

Even from a distance she could see his blond hair and piercing blue eyes. For the briefest moment, Violet thought she recognized him. She whispered, "James, Jimmy?" She leaned her head against the window and stared at him for several minutes..

"Do you recognize that man?" Holmes had come up behind her so quietly that she jumped and almost stumbled back into him before he caught her.

Violet turned to face him. "Yes…. No…. I cannot be sure." She placed her hand over her heart as if that gesture could make it stop racing, "Oh Mr. Holmes, do you always creep up behind people like that?" Then she saw what looked like a glimmer of amusement in his eyes and bit her lower lip to keep from smiling back at him.

She made her way to the settee reflecting on that glimmer in Holmes' eyes. It made him seem for the briefest of moments more warm and human that his usual behavior would indicate. He remained at the window looking out on the street for several minutes before he sat in his chair by the fireplace. "He is gone now, Miss Carroll. As I told you before, do not go out of this house alone for any reason."

She sighed, "Yes, I understand, Mr. Holmes," That little voice within told her, "Do not tell him a lie; that is wrong." In her thoughts Violet told the voice, "I did not lie to him; I only told him I understood what he said to me."

* * *

Watson returned to Baker Street shortly before noon. When he entered the sitting room, Violet noticed he was holding something behind his back and smiling. He crossed the room and sat down beside her. "I saw these and thought you might like them." He held out a small bouquet of flowers to her. Violet took them, ran her fingers over the petals and said, "Thank you, they are lovely." A memory stirred in her mind of receiving flowers from someone before. What did it mean?

He saw a puzzled expression on her face. "Violet, are you alright?"

"Yes." She rubbed her face with her hands and pushed back her thick, troublesome hair away from her forehead. "However, my memory is so full of holes; it makes anything that seems new or unknown to me somewhat confusing. I somehow know to show my appreciation for things given to me, but I do not understand the meaning of the gift. I am so sorry."

Watson sat down beside her. "You have nothing to apologize for. As to the meaning for the gift of the flowers, they were intended to give you a little pleasure." He smiled at her and patted her hand. Violet stood up, her eyes filling with tears. "Please excuse me gentlemen, I need to go to my room now." She clutched the flowers to her chest and ran from the room.

"Holmes, she seems distressed. Did you say something to upset her? What happened?" Watson suddenly felt very protective of Violet.

"Watson, it was not anything I said to her. It was what or rather "who" she saw from the window while you were out. There was a man standing across the street looking up at the window. She caught a glimpse of him and for the briefest moment thought she recognized him. "

"Did she seem frightened or confused?" Watson asked Holmes.

"Miss Carroll seemed more confused than frightened. I warned her again not to go out of this house without one of us with her. She told me" she understood". She did not promise me that she would not go out alone. Watson, her distress is only beginning. She is…No we are in for a difficult time as she regains more and more of her memory."

**Violet has not promised Holmes anything. Wonder what will happen next?**

**Note: In the several floor plans of 221B Baker Street I have seen, there is no room like the one Violet is using. I confess it's my own creation. As Mrs. Hudson said in an earlier chapter, it's a "glorified closet". My apologies for not mentioning this sooner.**

**Dear Readers, again I thank you for your support and reviews. **


	12. Chapter 12

**A STRANGER AT THE DOOR- CHAPTER 12- CURIOSITY**

Violet spent the remainder of the afternoon in her room. She tried to read but, her mind would not let her concentrate on the words on the pages of the several books she picked up. Sleep eluded her, also. She worked and reworked in her mind the memory of the face of the man on the street. He was tall, had blond hair and mustache with those piercing blue eyes. Who was he? How did she know him?

Violet took her journal and made three sections for it; Nightmare, Memories, the Man. She recorded the nightmare as she had told it to Holmes; from walking in the moonlight to the end when she woke up feeling as if she were drowning. In Memories, she recorded all the things the "voice" told her was proper behavior, her difficulty with understanding the gift of flowers from Watson. As to the Man, she wrote down his hair and eye color and the name she called him, "Jimmy."

The sleep that had eluded her earlier came on suddenly. She lay down and gave in to it. The dream that came to her was not the dark nightmare. It was filled with light and sound. Violet was on a beach, the sun shining brightly. She could hear the cry of seagulls and the waves rolling onto the shore; in the distance stood a light house. There was an overwhelming feeling of freedom and happiness. It was a place where she felt safe; a place to remain forever.

When she awoke, Violet took the journal, opened it to the page where she had written "Nightmare" and crossed out the word with her pen and wrote "Dreams". Now there were two kinds of dreams; one of darkness and one of light. As she recorded the dream she just experienced, she decided to hold it as a treasure to remember in times of darkness.

Evening came and Violet went into the sitting room to find no one there. She assumed that Holmes and Watson must have gone out while she was sleeping. It was not yet time for dinner, so it was likely that Mrs. Hudson was in the kitchen preparing the meal.

A sudden desire to explore this room took her by surprise. It was the first time she had been alone there. Her sense of curiosity would not be denied. The little "voice" whispered to her about not bothering things that didn't belong to her. Pushing the voice away once more, Violet made a circuit around the sitting room examining objects, looking at pictures, looking through books, opening and closing drawers. She left very few things untouched. When she opened Holmes' desk drawer, she lingered a moment. Among the items she saw was a photograph of a very beautiful woman and a syringe. For some reason she could not fathom, the sight of the second item caused her to shudder and she shut the drawer quickly and a little too loudly. She fervently prayed that Mrs. Hudson had not heard her.

Violet paused at the window. She knew exactly what or who she was looking for; the Man. Almost as if he had read her mind, he was standing there because she desired to see him again. It was definitely him; He was tall and possessed blond hair and a mustache. She knew he had not really read her mind, but felt sure he was watching the house again because he had seen Holmes and Watson leave during the afternoon while she was upstairs in her room.

He looked up at her, tipped his hat, smiled and waved, then turned and walked away. She watched him until he was out of sight. Violet desperately wanted to know who he was and why he was watching her. Maybe he had the key to her identity and where she was from.

Mrs. Hudson entered the room with dinner. "Violet, Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson are out on a case will not return until tomorrow evening. He asks me to remind you not to leave this house alone."

"Yes Mrs. Hudson, thank you." After Mrs. Hudson left the room, Violet sat down at the table and began eating her dinner. Distracted by her thoughts, she picked at her food and finally moved from the table to the fireplace. Leaning against the mantle she stared into the fire. What could she do to find the Man and asked him what she wanted so desperately to know? Violet sat down in Holmes' chair.

It was difficult to sit still. Her mind would not let her alone. Violet tried several means of distracting herself from the thought she was becoming obsessed with, finding the Man. In an hour's time, the floor of the sitting room was strewn with open books and newspapers and still she could not quiet her mind.

If the thought of finding him would not go away, Violet would act upon it. She would take the opportunity to leave the house at first light. She hoped the Man would be waiting across the street and she could speak to him and return to the house long before Holmes and Watson would return. Hopefully she would be gone only a short time and Mrs. Hudson would not know that Violet had gone out alone.

She fell asleep. The nightmare came to her again. This time there was sound. She could hear crickets chirping and the sound of the river flowing. When the person approached her from behind spoke it was a male voice. He drawled in her ear, "Little missy, why are you so nosy? "Curiosity killed the cat" you know." Then he pushed her into the water. While she sank, she struggled mightily to swim to the surface only to feel something pulling her further and further down in the water's depths. The end of the dream was the same as before, she woke up gasping for breath, her heart racing and body trembling.

For a few minutes she sat clutching the arms of Holmes' chair, and then she headed for her room to record this latest version of the nightmare in her journal. Once that task was accomplished, Violet changed into her nightgown. However she did not fall asleep again. She lay awake thinking about what she was going to do in the morning.

**It seems that Violet's mind is "waking up". An aspect of her personality is emerging. She has become obsessed with this Man she has seen. It will be interesting to see where her curiosity leads her. Thank you so much for reading this chapter. Please review if you're so inclined! **


	13. Chapter 13

**A STRANGER AT THE DOOR- CHAPTER 13- PURSUIT**

Dawn could not come soon enough for Violet. There was no clock in her room, so she could only guess at the time. To help pass the time she made herself read _A Brief History of the United States of America._ Quickly skimming through the parts concerning the earliest history of the country, she turned to the chapter on the American Civil War. This country, her country according to Holmes, had been torn apart by a bloody and tragic war that pitted brother against brother, father against son and neighbor against neighbor. America was a union of states and the Southern ones had chosen to break away from this Union. It was hard for her to understand why anyone would want to go to war. Maybe she would understand this when her memory returned.

She put the book aside and decided to get dressed. Violet changed from her nightgown into a clean skirt, blouse and stockings. She put on her shoes, then attempted to pin up her hair with the hairpins Holmes had given her. After ten frustrating minutes she threw the hairpins on the floor and tied her hair back with the ribbon she had received from Mrs. Hudson. Picking up her mirror she looked at her reflection and saw her green eyes and thick, wavy brown hair wondering if her appearance was suitable. "Well," she thought, "I do not know if I look alright but it really does not matter for I can do nothing about it."

Another long hour passed before Violet could see the dawn breaking from her window. She put on her jacket and as quietly as possible descended the stairs. She opened the front door, looking out on to the street. The Man was there waiting across directly across the street from 221B. Violet hesitated, remembering for the briefest moment what Holmes had said to her about going out of the house alone. Then she dismissed his warning and crossed the street. The Man started to walk away.

"Wait sir, I wished to speak with you. Why have you been watching the house where I am staying? Who are you?"

As he had done before, he smiled at her and tipped his hat. Then he started walking away from her. The pace of his walk became faster and faster until it was transformed into a run.

Violet continued to call after him to wait, but when he did not stop she ran after him. She tried to keep him in her sight and memorize landmarks as she passed them so she would be able to find her way back home. There were many people sharing the sidewalk with this man and the woman pursuing him who dodged and ducked out of the way to keep from being knocked down by them.

As she pursued him, Violet lost track of how far she had come. She continued on calling out to the man. Over time, she went from calling him "sir" to calling him "James" then "Jimmy". She became so winded and out of breath that she finally stopped running not realizing that she was standing in front of the opening to an alleyway.

A hand shot out from the alleyway and grabbed her by her hair tied back with the ribbon. Then it clamped over her mouth to keep her from screaming.

"You was always too nosy by half little gal." It was the same voice as in her nightmare. He hissed in her ear, "You got to see for yourself don't you? It's gonna be the death of you yet." She could feel his hot breath in her ear. She tried to pull away from him, but that just caused him to pull her closer. He had his left arm around her throat choking her. She clawed at him, but he smacked her hand away.

From somewhere deep in her mind an idea came to her. "Bite his hand and stomp on his foot. If he lets go of you run like the devil is at your back!" She did not question where the idea came from, she acted on it instead.

Violet bit his arm as hard as she could and stomped on his foot at the same time. He yelled and grabbed at her arm, ripping the sleeve of her blouse, but she wrenched herself away from him. She started running the way she had come; hearing him running after her yelling, "You little witch, I'll kill you!" The sound of his voice faded and finally went away the farther she ran from him.

Tears made it difficult to see where she was going, but she was afraid to stop. One time she tripped and lost the heel to her right shoe but the instinct for survival was so strong that she ran without stopping until she found herself back at 221B Baker Street.

Violet found the front door locked and began to beat on it as hard as she possibly could. When Mrs. Hudson opened the door, Violet fell into her arms sobbing.

"Where have you been? Mr. Holmes told you not to leave the house alone." She pulled Violet inside and shut the door.

A hansom cab pulled up in front of the house and Mrs. Hudson heard Holmes' and Watson's voices as they walked up the few steps to the front door. "My goodness, Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson have returned earlier than expected. Go upstairs Violet and compose yourself."

Violet hobbled up the stairs as fast as she could and had just shut the door to her room when the two men entered the house.

"Blast it! I told that young woman not to leave this house!" Holmes bellowed.

"But Holmes, how do you know that…" Watson was interrupted by his friend pointing his cane at the footprints that went from the hall carpet all the way up the stairs.

"Firstly, she has been outside. She had dirt on the soles of her shoes. And secondly, do you not see the print of her left shoe, both sole and heel, and the right shoe, only the sole? She lost it while running."

Holmes bounded up the stairs towards Violet's room with Watson on his heels.

When Violet shut the door to her room, she had slide down against it and was sitting on the floor. The pounding of Holmes' fist on the other side of the door hammered in her head.

"Open this door! Now!" Holmes shouted. Watson put his hand on his friend's arm and whispered, "Let me talk to her,"

Softly he said, "Violet, please open the door. No one is going to hurt you."

She opened the door, cowering at Holmes' glare. If this was anger, she hoped to never see its like again for she was almost as frightened of Holmes as she had been of the man who had grabbed her from the alley.

Watson calmly ordered Holmes to go down to the sitting room. When he was gone, Watson asked her, "Why did you go out Violet, when Holmes expressly told you not to?"

She looked up at him and said with a trembling voice, "I wanted to talk to the man who has been watching this house, watching me. I want to know who I am and where I am from. I thought he could give me the answer."

Without thinking she fell on his chest and sobbed. He put his arms around her and held her, patting her back. After a few moments, he gently pulled his arms away and wiped her tear stained face with his handkerchief.

"Come downstairs with me. You are going to have to talk to Holmes about what you did and what happened to you."

He led Violet down to the sitting room. Holmes was more than ready to go at her about leaving the house alone. Watson put a finger to his lips indicating to his friend not to say anything to her right away.

**She did it, the very thing Holmes told her not to do! Now she'll have to face the consequences. God bless Watson, he acts as a buffer between Holmes and Violet. We'll soon find out what the detective has to say to her! **


	14. Chapter 14

**A STRANGER AT THE DOOR- CHAPTER 14- A VERY DIFFERENT KIND OF STORM **

Violet entered the sitting room behind Watson, very fearful of what Holmes would do to her. She went to what had become her usual place on the settee. The doctor sat beside her and she was very grateful for him to be near her. Several minutes passed in an uncomfortable silence.

Holmes was standing by the fireplace facing the mantle, hands in his pockets. When he turned around and Violet saw his face she drew herself back as far as possible in her seat as if doing so would put more distance between them.

"Miss Carroll, bring me your right shoe." Both Violet and Watson looked at each other and then at Holmes. She stammered, "What? What do you want with my shoe? "

He pointed at her. "Young woman, I know you are not deaf. Bring me your shoe!"

She jumped up from the settee and ran up the stairs to her room. She retrieved the shoe and quickly returned to the sitting room, thrusting it into his hand. Violet backed away from him and almost fell into Watson's lap before she sat down.

Holmes called out for Mrs. Hudson. When she appeared, he handed her the shoe and told her, "Take this to the cobbler and see if the heel can be replaced. If not, then Miss Carroll must have a new pair of shoes."

The landlady, quite used to Holmes' odd behavior, only said, "Yes, Mr. Holmes" and left the room.

He sat down and leaned forward. "Now tell me why you went out when I expressly told you not to do so. Then tell me what happened to you after you left this house." He sounded oddly calm and this frightened Violet much more than if he had yelled at her.

Violet drew in a deep breath and summoned all the courage she possessed. "I thought this man that had been watching the house could tell me what I want to know. He looked like someone I think I remember; a man named Jimmy. At first light this morning, I saw him standing across the street. As I approached him he ran away from me. I pursued him for some time until I became so winded I had to stop to catch my breath, not realizing I was standing at the opening to an alleyway. Someone yanked me into the alley and held me by the throat with his arm. It was a man's voice that told me "I was too nosy by half and that curiosity would be the death of me." The first thought that came to mind was to bit him hard on the arm and stomp on his foot at the same time and I acted on this thought. He let me go, ripping my sleeve as he attempted to get hold of me again. I ran away from him. He followed after me for some time and eventually gave up the chase I suppose. Somehow I managed to make my way back here."

"So you allowed curiosity to overrule reason. Did you not consider the consequences of your actions? You have proven that you cannot be trusted."

"It proves I have a mind of my own, Mr. Holmes," she responded angrily. Violet jumped up from her seat to launch herself at him.

Instantly Holmes was out of the chair. He crossed the room and snatched Violet by her arms, glaring at her. His desire to shake some sense into her overwhelmed him. His grip on her arms was like a vise and she began to whimper. When he saw the terror in her eyes he relented and backed way. She fell back on the settee. Watson reached out and steadied her. Then he stood up, pointed at Holmes and told him, "That is enough from you!" Then he turned to her, "Violet, please listen to reason. Holmes is right. You are not safe going out alone. You have got to let him help you! Now if you two will excuse me."

He left the house without any explanation. Holmes and Violet were now alone. The detective retreated to his chair, filled a pipe with tobacco from the Persian slipper and started smoking. Violet stayed rooted to the settee. She looked down at her hands, for she was too afraid to speak.

Any excuse or explanation for her actions that morning seemed inadequate. She knew she would have to apologize to Holmes, Watson and Mrs. Hudson for her behavior. Anything she could say would be not enough. Violet was now in a misery of her own making.

She lay down on the settee, her face buried in a cushion, and cried silently until there were no tears left. Violet turned on her side to face Holmes. She let out a shuttering breath and simply said, "I am sorry. I am a fool."

He remained silent and continued smoking his pipe. Holmes felt a mixture of anger and disappointment with Violet.

She rose from the settee and knelt down in front of him placing her hands on the arms of his chair. For a few seconds she hesitated to look him in the eyes. Finally she looked at him and said once more, "I am sorry. I am a fool."

He reached out and touched her shoulder where the sleeve of her blouse was torn then pulled his hand away. "Violet you are not a fool. You are impatient. Trust me and believe I want to help you."

Watson returned to the house and stood in open doorway to the sitting room watching this scene between Violet and Holmes. He continued to stand there for several minutes before he entered the room and sat down in his chair across from them.

Violet struggled to get up from her knees. Holmes stood up, reached down to help her up and led her to the settee. He lingered in front of her for the briefest of moments before he returned to his chair.

The silence that descended on the room was like the calm after a thunderstorm. It was broken when a breathless Mrs. Hudson entered and said, "I've just returned from the cobbler's shop." She handed Violet the shoe which had been repaired. "And there is a man standing across the street watching this house once again."

Holmes rose from his chair and went to the window. "It is not the same man that has been there before." He motioned Violet to join him at the window.

After she looked at the man she agreed with him. "You are right. It is not the same man."

**What an odd request Holmes makes of Violet after she enters the sitting room. She certainly was expecting the first thing for him to say was "Bring me your shoe." He was being practical in making sure she had a shoe she could wear, but Violet and Watson would have never thought of that! **

**Now the storm between Holmes and Violet is over (for the time being). Don't you think Watson was wise to leave the house when he did? It's exhausting to be the buffer between those two!**

**Dear Reader, thank you once again for your support. You're the reason I write this story!**


	15. Chapter 15

**A STRANGER AT THE DOOR- CHAPTER 15- THE WEAPON**

Violet placed her forehead on the window; she wished she could fly through it, down to the man standing there. His appearance was so unlike "Jimmy". This man was short and wiry with jet black hair. His clothing was old and ragged. She wondered if he was the one who had grabbed and pulled her into the alley. If she could only hear him speak, Violet was sure she would know if this man was the one who attacked her.

She turned to Holmes and said, "Do not worry . I will not leave this house alone to speak to that man, but I so want to hear his voice. I want to know if he is the one that snatched me into the alley."

As she spoke to Holmes, Violet was completely unaware that she continually clinched and unclenched her hands. The tone of her voice was angry. However, both he and Watson noticed this. It would take an effort to keep her from acting on the anger that she displayed with her body.

Holmes gently steered her away from the window to the settee. Once she was seated, he sat down beside her, took her clinched fists and opened them with his hands. He softly called her name and said, "It has been said that "anger is the wind that blows out the lamp of the mind". Do not let your anger overtake reason."

"Yes, yes you are right," she whispered. Violet pushed her fingers through her hair pulling out the ribbon and twisted it in her fingers.

Watson had a fleeting, somewhat frightening thought, "She is twisting that ribbon as if it were her attacker's neck."

Mrs. Hudson entered the sitting room with a late breakfast. Violet was seated at the table before Holmes or Watson moved. She held her tea cup with both her hands because she was trembling so from the rush of anger she had experienced. When it left her body it was as if the tide had gone back out to sea on the beach in her dream. She was left weak and shaken. It took some effort to get the cup to her lips without spilling tea on her person or the tablecloth. When she put the cup down on the table she sighed, "Oh, I possess a terrible temper. It has shown itself twice this morning!"

Watson put his hand on hers and smiled. "Well Violet, you have had an exceptionally bad morning."

She laughed softly, "Indeed, I have!"

From behind the newspaper he was reading, Holmes said to Violet, "When Mrs. Hudson returns for the dishes, ask her for a needle and thread."

This puzzled Violet. "I beg your pardon?"

He put down the newspaper and pointed at her torn sleeve.

She looked at it. "Oh, I had quite forgotten about it."

"Well you certainly cannot go around looking like that."

Violet fingered the torn sleeve and responded, "I suppose not. You must think I am the stupidest creature on the face of the earth."

He smiled at her. It was so brief that she could only imagine she had seen it. "Miss Carroll, you are not stupid, but you have been preoccupied as of late."

"Yes, I have. This morning seems to have lasted all day." She raked her hair with her fingers once more. How she despised her hair! It was thick and unruly with a mind of its own. "Nothing to be done about it at present," she thought.

Violet suddenly realized how hungry she was. She remembered she had hardly touched her food the previous evening. Trying to be as ladylike as possible, she ate everything on her plate and would have eaten the floral decoration on them if she could have.

When Mrs. Hudson came back to retrieve the dishes, Violet asked her for a needle and thread. "Mrs. Hudson, perhaps I could accompany you to the kitchen and then get the needle and thread?"

"Yes, my dear. Follow me." Violet followed her downstairs to the kitchen and waited while Mrs. Hudson retrieved the needle and thread.

She could not see Mrs. Hudson, but she certainly heard her open and closing drawers and cabinet doors in another room. "Now where is it? Oh, he must have taken it for heaven knows what purpose!" the landlady fussed.

"Mrs. Hudson, what is the matter?" Violet called out.

Mrs. Hudson returned to the kitchen in a huff with a scowl on her face. "I cannot find my sewing basket anywhere. I suppose Mr. Holmes has taken it."

"Why would he take your sewing basket? " Violet asked her.

"It is a mystery to me, Violet. However, nothing Mr. Holmes does should surprise me. This much I do know, I will have to go and purchase more needles, thread and a pair of scissors before you will be able to repair your blouse. I will need to go shopping and you are going with me."

"Do you think he will permit me to go out of the house with you?"

"Oh yes, indeed he will!" Mrs. Hudson had a look of fierce determination on her face. "Go upstairs and put on your other blouse. I will tell him we are going shopping." She smiled at Violet.

While Violet went to change her blouse, Mrs. Hudson returned to the sitting room. "Mr. Holmes, Violet and I are going out to the shops. Before she can repair her blouse, I will have to purchase more needles and thread because the ones I had are missing and I do not have the patience to look for them any further!"

Holmes suddenly remembered he had taken her sewing tools for some experiment but could not remember where he had put them. He knew he had better not argue with his landlady about taking Violet with her. "Very well Mrs. Hudson. Do not let Miss Carroll out of your sight."

"Of course, Mr. Holmes," she huffed as she left the room.

Watson chuckled. "Mrs. Hudson seems a trifle upset. Could it be something you've done?"

Holmes responded with a grunt.

When Violet came out of her room after changing into her other blouse, she found Mrs. Hudson waiting for her at the foot of the stairs with a shopping basket in hand. "Are you ready Violet?"

"Yes, I am."

Holmes stood at the window and watched the two women leave the house. He was relieved that he did not see the man standing across the street. But he knew that it might mean the man was lurking about nearby.

* * *

Even though Violet had already been out of the house that morning, this was under very different circumstances. For her it brought back pleasant memories of being in the company of women, shopping and talking; being away from men for a brief time in a world of their own.

In addition to the needed sewing implements, Mrs. Hudson purchased tea, other food items and a broom. "We need a new broom. The one I have been using has curiously disappeared," she told Violet as she handed it to her to carry.

"Mrs. Hudson, I may need your assistance in repairing the sleeve of my blouse. I am not sure I remember how to do it."

"I will be happy to help you with it." She smiled at Violet. She was enjoying the company of the young woman.

Violet and Mrs. Hudson were so deep in conversation when they passed through a rather congested part of the sidewalk that neither one of them noticed a dark haired man break away from the crowd. He followed them closely. Violet sensed his presence before she saw him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him reach out and push Mrs. Hudson down on the sidewalk before she could stop him. Without a second thought, Violet swung the broom at him. He put out his arm to stop the blow, but was unsuccessful. She gave him a great smack across the face with the broom. He reached and grabbed at her arm, missed and tore her sleeve. Violet was more angry than terrified and she hit him again.

He yelled at her, "You little witch. I am going to kill you!"

She turned to him. This time she saw his face. It was the dark haired man and his voice was the one she had heard in the alley. She got in one more great whack at him with the broom and said, "And you, I will kill you if you ever touch me or any other woman again."

The man had had enough. He took off in the opposite direction yelling curses at her knocking down several people that had been witness to the confrontation.

She ran to Mrs. Hudson and helped her up. Then the both of them picked up all of their purchases that had been scattered along the sidewalk and placed them back in the shopping basket. Violet placed one hand on Mrs. Hudson's shoulder and held the broom like a weapon in the other one.

As quickly as possible, they made their way back home. When Violet opened the front door she almost knocked Holmes and Watson down. The two men had heard the scuffle outside, but could not see it because it happened out of their sight. They helped Mrs. Hudson and Violet inside.

"What in heaven's name happened?" Watson asked.

The young woman paused to catch her breath; then answered, "The man who was watching the house when Mrs. Hudson returned from the cobbler's attacked her while we returning home. He pushed her down. I gave him a thrashing with this!" She held out the broom.

"And Mr. Holmes I can now confirm that he was the one that grabbed and pulled me into the alley. He called me a little witch, which he had done in the alley, and he threatened to kill me. I vow I will kill him if he ever touches Mrs. Hudson or me again!"

Both Holmes and Watson struggled mightily not to laugh. Violet still clutched the broom in her hand like a weapon; her hair was down around her face in a wild tangle, her eyes afire.

Holmes took the broom from her. "You may wish to kill him but I doubt that a broom will be effective for that purpose."

**Now we have had a full display of Violet's temper. Who knew that a broom could be used as a weapon? Heaven help anyone who crosses her! At least now she has connected the man's face and voice. And he owes her a blouse or two! : )**


	16. Chapter 16

**A STRANGER AT THE DOOR- CHAPTER 16- GENTLEMEN**

Violet and Mrs. Hudson were ushered into the sitting room by Dr. Watson and each given a glass of brandy. Nervously, Violet took a rather large gulp of brandy and it nearly strangled her. She quickly covered her mouth with her free hand to keep the liquid from getting on her blouse. When she had recovered she asked Watson, "Doctor, tell me, are you and Mr. Holmes the only gentlemen in the world? My nearly non-existent memory and my experiences of today make me think you two are the only ones in existence."

He smiled. "I assure you Violet there are many gentlemen in this world. You just have not met them yet."

Holmes had come to the settee and was standing behind where she was seated. He touched her torn sleeve and she literally jumped several feet across the room spilling brandy everywhere and dropping the glass that had contained it. "Can you not speak sir? Why must you creep up on me! Do you take some perverse delight in frightening me? I have had quite enough of that today!" She looked at the torn sleeve and then at him. "Trust me, I will repair it; given **time **to do so."

It was all Watson and Mrs. Hudson could do to keep from laughing. Watson whispered in his friend's ear, "I think it would be to your benefit and safety if you speak to Violet before you approach her like that again."

Holmes shrugged, turned to Violet and said, "I apologize for frightening you Miss Carroll."

She acknowledged his apology with a brief nod and said rather loudly, "Mrs. Hudson, I think I need to attend to repairing my blouses now. I would not want to discomfit Mr. Holmes any further."

* * *

After the women left the sitting room, Watson told Holmes, "I think Violet's personality has come to life. She is certainly not meek and mild. You would do well to remember that Holmes. I do believe you have met your match in her."

"Hmm… yes, you are right. She is like lightening. One never knows where it will strike."

With Mrs. Hudson's help, it did not take long for Violet to remember how to sew. Her first effort was a little crooked, but suitable enough for her to wear the blouse once more. On the second blouse, she did a much better job and was pleased with the result. "Thank you so much for your help Mrs. Hudson. It seems that I all I needed was a little encouragement from you and I began to remember what to do. Now I can help you with any sewing you need to do in the future."

The landlady now looked on Violet with great affection and smiled. "That would be very welcome. Now shall we take tea to Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson? I am sure they are expecting it."

"Yes, I am sure they are," Violet laughed. "Let me take the tea tray to them. You can have tea in your room and rest. It has been an extraordinary day."

When Violet entered the sitting room alone with tray in hand, it got both the attention of Holmes and Watson.

" I thought Mrs. Hudson could use a rest after this morning's excitement."She placed the tray on the table and sat down at her usual place. Holmes had an odd expression on his face. "Whatever is the matter, Mr. Holmes? I am not going to poison you. It's only tea."

Watson took delight in watching Violet tease Holmes. He could tell it was a new experience for this friend.

Violet poured tea for the three of them. She passed a cup to Watson and them to Holmes. He took the cup she handed him, sat it down on the table and took her right hand. He looked at one side of her hand and then the other. She tried to keep herself calm and not pull away from his grasp. He pointed at two small scars, one on each side of her hand. Very timidly she asked, "What do you see?" She looked at her hand and then at him.

"You have two small scars on your right hand. Do you have any memory of how you got them?"

"No Mr. Holmes, I do not." she whispered. Violet gently rubbed the scars with the fingers of her other hand as if doing so would bring her a memory of how they came to be there. Frustrated that she could not remember anything, she began to rub her hand harder. If she could not remember how she got the scars, she would obliterate them. Tears trickled down her cheeks. Holmes placed his hand over hers. "Come now Miss Carroll, do not distress yourself."

She looked into his grey eyes and tried to fathom what she saw there. He was difficult to understand. His usual odd behavior was occasionally eclipsed by these moments of concern for her. This just added to her state of perpetual confusion. Violet pulled her hand away and said, "Sir that is much easier said than done." She got up from the table and made a semi-circuit of the room; first lingering at the window for a few moments, standing at the fireplace for a full five minutes with her forehead pressed on the mantle, then finally sitting down on the settee.

Violet pushed her fingers through her hair as she often did when she was angry or distressed. Then she closed her eyes. In several minutes her breathing slowed and she soon was asleep. But for her, sleep was not an escape from trouble; it was simply the opening of another door to it.

The nightmare, the dark dream started to rise in her subconscious mind. Violet raised her hand as if to forbid its coming. Instead, she entered the world of light and sound, the pleasant dream. Again, she stood on the beach hearing the cry of seagulls and the waves washing against the shore. There was the voice of a small child laughing and calling out to her. "Come Miss V, come look at the pretty seashell!" The child was a small boy of no more than five years of ages with dark curly hair and large brown eyes. He held out his hand to show her the seashell. "It's a present for you Miss V." When she knelt beside him and reached out to take his little gift, the dream faded away.

"No, please stay. Please don't go away. Come back, please come back!" Violet opened her eyes and realized she had been dreaming. The dream had given her a brief moment of joy and it was suddenly snatched away from her. She began to cry, holding nothing back.

Holmes fidgeted and paced the room, unsure what to do for her. He was most definitely out of his element.

Watson went and sat beside Violet. He looked at Holmes and pointed toward a chair indicating to his friend to stop pacing and sit down. Then the doctor put his arm around her and she rested her head on his shoulder. He wished that he could relieve her of this heartache, but the cure for it was not in his power to give her.

**Yes, both Holmes and Watson are gentlemen. However, Holmes in some ways is like a 12 year old boy who doesn't quite know how to act around girls. Between Violet and Watson, he might learn a thing or two about that! : ) Thank you kind readers for your support and reviews! More to come soon.**


	17. Chapter 17

**A STRANGER AT THE DOOR- CHAPTER 17- DEFENDER!**

Violet looked into Watson's eyes. There she saw a deep compassion and concern for her. He was a shelter in her storm. Words seemed inadequate to express her gratitude for his simple act of comforting her. "Thank you, my dear friend." She rose from her seat and crossed the room to where Holmes was seated. "Mr. Holmes, my apologies for making such a disturbance. It must be difficult for you having me here."

Sherlock Holmes, who could usually produce a ready answer for most things, was speechless. What could he say to this young woman? "You have turned my orderly life upside down. One never knows what will happen with you from one moment to the next." He merely nodded at her.

Violet stood there with the expectation of hearing some verbal response from him. After a few moments she realized that it was not forthcoming and quickly excused herself from the room. She went to her room to record the dream she had just had while the details were fresh in her mind.

_A sunny day at a beach_

_The cry of seagulls and the sound of the waves washing the shore_

_A laughing little boy with dark, curly hair and big brown eyes_

_He calls me "Miss V" and offers me the gift of a seashell_

_I wake up from the dream._

She held an image of his face in her mind. The wind blew his dark curls into his brown eyes. She heard his fluting laugh. His name suddenly came to her; Timothy. He clearly was not related to her for he did not call her "mother" or "aunt", but she felt that she knew him well. Who could this child be?

Beside her description of the dream she wrote "Timothy".

* * *

A dog's loud, insistent barking from somewhere behind the house got her attention. She stood up to look out the window over her bed, but it was too high for her to see even on tip toe. Violet took her shoes off, pushed her bed as close as possible to the wall. She then climbed on the bed and looked out the window. Below she saw a large mangy dog barking and growling at a small kitten it had backed into a corner of the garden.

She ran down to the kitchen and grabbed the broom. "I need this Mrs. Hudson!" Then she headed for the back door and threw it open.

Holmes and Watson had heard the commotion and went to see what was going on. Standing at the open back door, they witnessed Violet yelling at the dog and giving it a good thrashing with the broom. "Leave…that…kitten...**alone…**you mangy beast! Go pick on something your own size. Go away! **Git!**" She gave the dog one last great swat that sent it away whimpering and scooped up the kitten with her free hand. "You poor little thing," she whispered to the kitten as she nuzzled it under her chin.

Holmes and Watson had been joined by Mrs. Hudson in watching this little drama unfold. When Violet turned toward the open door she saw the three of them standing there smiling at her.

"Bravo, Violet! Defender of the innocent! Well done!" Watson called out. The three of them applauded her defense of the kitten.

Violet walked up the steps to where the three were standing. She looked at Holmes and said, "I am sorry I went outside alone, but I could not let that dog hurt this kitten. It upsets me to see the strong abuse the small and weak. I will not stand for it."

Holmes suspected that this was not the first time Violet had come to the defense of the small and weak. He was happy not to be on the receiving end of her fury.

Without asking permission, Violet brought the cat inside. "Mrs. Hudson, could we get a dish of milk for the cat?"

"Of course." The landlady reached over and scratch under the kitten's chin.

After Violet and Mrs. Hudson had gone down to the kitchen, Holmes looked at Watson. "Now we not only have a young woman under our roof, we have a cat. What else will she bring to this house?"

Watson chuckled. "You make too much of a little kitten, old man. Do not worry yourself."

In the kitchen, Mrs. Hudson poured the kitten a dish of milk which it lapped up quickly. "Poor little thing, it looks like it is starving."

Violet looked at the little ball of fur. It was a tiny gray tabby with enormous blue eyes. Mrs. Hudson was right. She could plainly see its little ribs. She stroked its head and was rewarded with purrs that sounded like they came from a far larger animal. "I shall call it Blue Eyes. What do you think Mrs. Hudson?"

"That sounds like a very good name for the little creature since it does have those beautiful blue eyes."

A box and an old blanket were found to make a bed for Blue Eyes in the kitchen. Mrs. Hudson was pleased to have the kitten stay with her and hoped it would prove to be a good mouser.

Violet returned to the sitting room shortly before Mrs. Hudson brought in dinner. "Mrs. Hudson has Blue Eyes settled in nicely," she said as she made her way to the settee.

"Blue Eyes? You have given the creature a name? I suppose you intend to keep it," Holmes remarked.

She turned to him and said, "Yes, I do. I would no more cast it into the street than you would me. Would you, Mr. Holmes?"

He grunted and mumbled, "No, I suppose not."

Watson looked at her and whispered, "Touché, Violet!" He found it difficult to hide his smile from Holmes.

* * *

When Mrs. Hudson entered the room with dinner she did not know she had a tiny shadow following her. Violet and Watson saw the kitten and tried to shoo it out of the room before Holmes saw it. This so frightened the little creature that it shot up the curtains closest to where he was seated at the table. It was desperately clinging to them with its claws, mewing pitifully.

"What the deuce is that!" Holmes bellowed and pointed at the curtain.

Violet ran over to the curtain and extricated the poor creature that was now both hissing and growling at Holmes. She cradled the kitten in the palm of one hand and placed her other hand on the detective's shoulder and said to both the kitten and the man, "Calm yourselves."

Violet left the room, followed by Mrs. Hudson. Once they were behind the kitchen door, they gave into the laughter they had been holding in while in Holmes' presence. The landlady wiped the tears streaming down her face with the corner of her apron.

Violet wiped her cheeks with the palm of her hand and in a shaky breath said, "How can I go back up to the sitting room and keep a straight face? I know if I look at Dr. Watson I shall not be able to keep my composure!" She swallowed and drew a deep breath, "Wish me luck, Mrs. Hudson."

She entered the sitting room with as solemn an expression as she could muster and avoided looking at Watson. Violet made an intense study of her plate and ate very slowly. One she had finished she went and took her place on the settee. Watson joined her. "Violet, would you like to go for a walk this evening." She could see him trying hard not to laugh.

"Oh yes, that would be lovely. I will go upstairs and get my jacket." She ran up the stairs and grabbed her jacket. When she met Watson at the foot of the stairs he pointed out to her that she had put it on wrong side out. Violet took it off and turned it right side out. He helped her put it on. They practically ran out the front door.

Once outside, all it took was one glance at each other and they couldn't help themselves. Watson offered her Violet his arm, which she took. Walking and laughing were rather difficult to do at the same time, but somehow they managed to do so.

"Oh Violet, I never thought I would see the day when Holmes would be undone by a tiny kitten. I thought he was going to have an apoplectic fit. Life is certainly not dull since your arrival!"

"I wonder what I was like before I came here," she mused.

"I do not know what you were like before Violet, but you certainly make life interesting now," Watson told her and patted her hand.

They continued to walk for three quarters of an hour. Once they decided they had sufficiently calmed down, they returned to 221B.

Holmes had been standing at the window watching them. When Violet and Watson entered the sitting room, he said, "I hope you both have had a pleasant walk."

Watson and Violet grinned at each other. "Oh yes, quite pleasant," they answered Holmes.

**Dear Reader, thank you for reading this chapter. I know it was mostly fluff, but I couldn't help it. It got away from me. Thank you for your kind indulgence! : ) (Writer assumes somber expression.) I will endeavor to be more serious next time.**


	18. Chapter 18

**A STRANGER AT THE DOOR-CHAPTER 18- THERE'S THE RUB**

When Violet ascended the stairs that evening, fatigue overtook her like a heavy weight. The day had been the most eventful one since she had come to Baker Street. It took a great effort to change into her nightgown. When she removed her clothing, she left it on the floor where it fell not caring if it became wrinkled.

Sleep came to her without difficulty. Violet knew without a doubt that dreams would come, mostly like the dark dream first and it did. It was more vivid than the last time. The moonlight, the sound of the river, the voice; now instead of walking she was running from someone or something. She was pushed into the river, she sank quickly, she struggle to swim to the surface, something or someone held her down. This time she did make it to the surface. Violet inhaled fresh air greedily. She turned around to see if the person who pushed her in the water was still there. He was no longer on the riverbank; he was in the water behind her. His hands grabbed her and she received a great blow to the head that rendered her unconscious. All became darkness.

Violet had no memory how she got downstairs to the sitting room. Holmes sat there in the darkened room with the only light coming from the fireplace. As he stood up from his chair and started to cross the room to where she was standing, she blindly launched herself; frantically clutching at him. He attempted to steer her to the settee, but she became immobile. He had no choice but to let her hold on to him. Minutes passed like this, it seem an eternity to him.

Violet finally relaxed her grip on Holmes and looked up at him. Her eyes were clouded with sleep and confusion. She shuddered and backed away from him. He had to grab her to keep her from falling backward. Very softly he whispered, "Miss Carroll." When she did not respond, he said, "Violet, you are safe. It is alright."

"Come sit down." He led her to the settee.

She held her head in her hands and moaned softly, "**No, it is not alright. It will never be alright!**"

Holmes devoutly wished that Watson was not such a sound sleeper. He needed him right **then**. Watson was infinitely more able to deal with this emotional woman than he was. To keep from waking her up completely and causing her more distress, he leaned against the back of the settee, sighed and resigned himself to sitting with her the rest of the night.

* * *

When Watson entered the sitting room in the morning he saw the most unlikely scene; Violet on the settee, asleep with her head on Holmes' shoulder and Holmes asleep with his head on his chest.

Violet stirred first. When she saw that her head was on Holmes' shoulder she lifted it slowly for her neck was quite stiff. She rubbed the back of her neck and looked at Holmes seated next to her. "Oh, how did I come to be here? I have the most frightful headache."

Holmes woke up with a start. He rubbed his forehead, then stretched his arms and stood up. "Watson, Miss Carroll had a difficult night."

"I can see that Holmes," Watson told him in a somewhat irritated tone. His friend had a gift for stating the obvious. "Violet, what happened?"

She yawned, then responded," It was that blasted nightmare. Every time I have it, there is an added feature. In this instance, after I came up out of the water a hand reached out and knocked me unconscious. That must be the reason for the thunderous headache I have now." She raked back her hair with her fingers and stood up.

"Perhaps you should go back to bed and get some more sleep. It might help ease the headache," suggested Watson.

Violet shook her head. "_To sleep: perchance to dream; ay there's the rub…" _Where on earth did that phrase come from? Something deeply submerged in her mind had come to the surface suddenly. "No Doctor, I may do many things this day, but sleeping will not be one of them. If this headache is my constant companion today, so be it."

Mrs. Hudson entered the sitting room with breakfast. Violet and Watson noticed two tiny gray ears and two enormous blues eyes just above the pocket of her apron. They shared a quick smile with the landlady before she left the room.

Holmes had not noticed the kitten in Mrs. Hudson's apron pocket, but he did observe the smiles that had been shared by Watson, Violet and his landlady.

"What did the three of you find so amusing? And you Miss Carroll swing between despair and joy like a pendulum on a clock."

Watson shook his head and grinned at Holmes, "As you tell me often, dear friend, "you see but do not observe". The newest arrival to this house came with Mrs. Hudson when she brought in breakfast. The kitten was in her apron pocket."

Holmes grunted, opened his newspaper and starting reading.

Watson asked Violet, "Do you feel like going out today? The weather promises to be pleasant."

Before she could answer, from behind the newspaper Holmes interjected, "Miss Carroll has need of a hat and gloves. See you go to the milliners while you are out."

"Mr. Holmes I think you mean while "we" are out," Violet told him. "I want to have both of you gentlemen with me today."

Holmes put his newspaper and sighed, "Very well."

* * *

As with the previous walk, Holmes walked nearly a block ahead of Violet and Watson. Suddenly he stopped and turned to face them. He stood there pointing his cane at a sign that said "Milliners".

Violet entered the shop while Holmes and Watson waited outside. As she looked at the hats on display, she could not fathom why any woman would want to wear what looked like dead birds or dead flowers on a hat. "I suppose I have no memory of what is considered fashionable," she thought. She chose the plainest hat she could find and at the suggestion of the clerk added a hat pin to her purchase. Watson had been watching her through the front window of the shop with some amusement. She was the first woman he had ever seen make a decision concerning an article of clothing so quickly.

The clerk helped Violet put on the hair and secured it to her head with the hatpin. She turned to face the two men waiting for her.

Holmes entered the shop and paid for the hat. As they left the shop Violet thanked him for the hat. She pointed to it and said, "I hope this is suitable. I had no earthly idea how to choose a hat. Women surely have strange ideas as to what constitutes an attractive one."

He had noticed the plainness of the hat and wondered if her opinion would change once she recovered more of her memory. Time would tell many things about her. Holmes would not admit to anyone that he found the emergence of the young woman's personality quite interesting.

Violet made the choice of a pair of gloves even faster than she had the choice of a hat. Standing outside the shop where gloves had been purchased, she put them on. "Now that this business has been concluded gentlemen, I am ready to return home. If…"

She saw a small boy with dark curly hair standing in the middle of the street oblivious to wagon being pulled by a team of horses going at a breakneck speed coming straight at him.

As Violet ran out into the street to pull the child out of the path of the horses she cried out, "Timothy, Timothy, move out of the way. You'll be killed!" She grabbed him and pulled him out of the way as the horses were almost upon them.

Violet held the child tightly. He began to cry. "Miss, please let me go. My name is Jonathan, not Timothy."

She let go of him but did not let him move away from her. "Jonathan, where is your mother?"

"My mother is not here, but there is my nanny," he told her as he pointed at an older woman running across the street toward them.

The nanny was suddenly face to face with Sherlock Holmes. "Madame, you have been very negligent in your care of this child. See that you pay closer attention to him!"

The nanny's face turned a ghostly white. She squeaked, "Yes sir." She then grabbed Jonathan's hand and hurried away with him.

Holmes ushered Violet back to the sidewalk. "Why did you call that child "Timothy"?

She looked up and him and answered, "Because he looks very much like a little boy I remember named Timothy."

**Ah, the great Sherlock Holmes on a shopping trip with a woman. Who would have imagined he would ever do that? He has no idea what the future holds in store for him as concerns Miss Violet Carroll. Thank you Kind Readers for your support! Please review if you are so inclined.**


	19. Chapter 19

**A STRANGER AT THE DOOR- CHAPTER 19- MR. HOLMES**

As they approached 221B, Holmes looked up at the sitting room window. He turned to Violet and said, "When we get inside the house, do exactly as I tell you." She did not know what he had seen but the tone of his voice frightened her.

"Very well, Mr. Holmes, I shall do as you instruct."

Mrs. Hudson was waiting just inside the front door when they entered the house. "Mr. Holmes, your brother is here, waiting for you in the sitting room."

"I am aware of that Mrs. Hudson. I saw him watching us from the window as we crossed the street." He turned to Violet. "Miss Carroll, go make yourself presentable and come into the sitting room." She started to question why she should go make herself presentable, and then she saw her reflection in the hall mirror. Her hat was askew and several stray strands of hair had escaped from under that hat. She removed her hat and gloves and retied the ribbon that held back her hair.

The visitor in the sitting room was a large, bulky man. He possessed the same gray eyes as Holmes, but looked nothing like him. Holmes made the introductions.

"Miss Violet Carroll, this is my brother Mycroft. Miss Carroll is Mrs. Hudson's niece come from America for a visit."

Mycroft stood up as Violet crossed the room to shake his hand. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance Miss Carroll." Instead of shaking her hand, he kissed it. This act took her by surprise and almost rendered her momentarily speechless.

"Are you related to the Carrolls of Maryland?"

Suddenly Violet felt like an animal caught in a trap. How would she answer this man? Who were the Carrolls of Maryland? And where was this place called Maryland?

"I don't believe so, sir."

She wanted to flee from the room, but sat down on the settee next to Watson instead. He saw her trembling. He could tell that she clearly did not know what Mycroft was talking about. A way to help Violet came to him. He reached over and touched her forehead. "My goodness, Miss Carroll you look pale and you feel feverish. Perhaps, you should go and lie down."

She realized that he had presented her with an excuse to leave the room gracefully. "Yes Dr. Watson, I do feel unwell and it would be wise to go and rest. Please excuse me gentlemen." She turned to Mycroft and said, "It was a pleasure to meet you Mr. Holmes."

Watson got up and escorted Violet out of the sitting room and up the stairs. When they arrived at the doorway to her room she told him, "Oh thank you for rescuing me. I was afraid he would ask me more questions that I have no answer for. I have no earthly idea who the Carrolls of Maryland are and I certainly could not tell him that I had invented a surname for myself based on the author of _Alice in Wonderland."_

* * *

After Violet and Watson had left the room, Mycroft said, "Now who is that young woman, brother? She is certainly not who she says she is."

Holmes took a deep breath, and then answered his brother. "Several nights ago, the young woman was thrown on my doorstep during a driving rainstorm. She was unconscious when Watson and I brought her inside. She has no memory as to her identity or where she is from. As to her name, it is a fiction she created so we would simply have something to call her other than "young woman" all the time."

"Was there anything at all that would give a clue as to her identity, other than her accent? She is most certainly an American from the coastal region of either Georgia or South Carolina, that much is certain," Mycroft told him. "Was there anything else? Anything at all?"

"She wore a necklace with a small silver locket that had the initial "V" on it? Other than that I know nothing," Holmes responded.

Mycroft chuckled. "Oh surely brother, there is more about her that you have observed. Her habits, her personality for example."

Holmes sighed, "Oh yes. She has a temper that comes on like a sudden storm. She is very curious about almost everything and will pursue something until she finds the information she seeks. And one other thing, Miss Carroll will spring to the defense of the weak and helpless without giving her actions a second thought."

His brother stood. "Well Sherlock, you most certainly have a challenge ahead of you!"

Mycroft went to the hall, retrieved his hat and coat. Before he left the house, he told Holmes, "Please do not hesitate to contact me brother if I can be of any assistance to you on this case. Good bye."

* * *

Watson had stayed with Violet after they had gone up to her room. She sat on the side of the bed, while he sat in the chair beside it. They did not make conversation; instead they waited silently until they heard Mycroft leave.

When Violet heard the front door close, she let out a shuddering sigh. "Oh thank God, that man is gone!" Then she smiled at Watson. "Thank you doctor, suddenly I seem to feel so much better. What a marvelous physician you are!" Then her she became more serious. "And a wonderful friend."

Watson stood and asked her, "Now that Mycroft has gone, do you wish to go back to the sitting room?"

"Yes," she answered. "Now that there is only one Mr. Holmes, I shall be much more comfortable there."

**I apologize for the brevity of this chapter, but now Violet has met Mycroft Holmes. The meeting was going to have to happen sometime. Surely Mycroft already knew she was there before he made the visit to 221B.**

**A note- The Carrolls were a prominent family in the colony and state of Maryland. Charles Carroll of Carrollton was one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence. Being the curious young woman that she is, Violet will want to find out about them.**

**Now Mycroft has entered the picture,hopefully any future encounters that Violet has with him won't be so intimidating for her. Thank you Kind Readers for your continued support! More to come soon!**


	20. Chapter 20

**A STRANGER AT THE DOOR- CHAPTER 20- LESSONS**

**November 3****rd**** is the birthday of the late actor Jeremy Brett. For me, he portrayed the quintessential Sherlock Holmes. I dedicate this chapter to his memory.**

Holmes was absorbed in reading a book when a pen flew past his ear. He looked up to see Violet scowling over a lap full of paper and books.

"How in heaven's name can I learn all this?" She threw the contents of her lap on the floor and stood up.

Holmes stood up from his chair and sighed loudly. "Young woman, you are petulant, impatient…"

Violet held up her hand to interrupt him. "Sir, you possess your memory and know many things. I have very little memory of anything. What would you do if you were me?"

He moved to where she was standing and looked down into her eyes. "I advise you to be mindful of what you do remember and be thankful for it and continue to learn all that would be of benefit in recovering your identity."

She silently backed away from Holmes and knelt down to pick up the paper and books that were scattered on the floor. Once they were placed on the settee, she left the room and stomped upstairs to her room.

Holmes huffed and returned to his chair. He lit his pipe and resumed reading.

Watson returned from a making a call on a patient and entered the sitting room. "Where is Violet? When I left the house she had several volumes of my _Encyclopedia Americana _out of the bookcase and was looking at them."

Holmes exhaled pipe smoke and pointed towards Violet's room.

Watson asked him, "Did you and Violet have a disagreement?"

"No Watson. She had a temper tantrum!" Holmes rubbed his left ear. When he moved his hand, Watson noticed a red mark there.

"Holmes, you have a red mark on your left ear. What happened?"

"Miss Carroll's pen grazed my ear when she threw it across the room. I do not know if she intended to aim it at me or I happened to be in the way when she threw it."

The doctor burst out laughing. "You might want to hide firearms and sharp knives from her."

"Yes, indeed." Holmes growled.

* * *

Violet arrived in her room to find Blue Eyes ensconced on her pillow.

"Hello there, how did you get out of the kitchen? You're an adventuresome creature, aren't you?"

She sat on the bed and placed the kitten in her lap. Its loud purring belied its tiny size. "Let us see if I remember what I have read today. Please listen closely Blue Eyes."

"First, the Carrolls of Maryland are a prominent political family in the United States of America. Maryland is a state in a country called the United States of America. I have been told by Mr. Holmes that is the country I am from. It is far away from the country we are in now. It is called Great Britain."

"Charles Carroll of Carrollton was signer of the Declaration of Independence. The Declaration of Independence is a document very important to the people in the United States of America. It says that the thirteen American colonies in the year 1776 are independent of Great Britain. A war between Great Britain and the American colonies was fought about this. The Americans won the war and are now a separate and independent country. Do you understand so far Blue Eyes?"

The kitten meowed as if it understood her. She patted its head and said, "Good, good. I do not know why this knowledge is useful, but never the less you have been instructed."

Watson and Holmes had heard Violet talking and thought she was talking to herself. They quietly went up to her room and stood in the open doorway. Holmes saw the kitten in her lap and pointed at it. He turned to Watson and smiled.

Violet sensed their presence and turned around to see the two men standing there. Her face became red with embarrassment at having been caught talking to the cat. She quickly recovered when she saw the smile on his face, for she had learned in a short time that he rarely smiled.

Holmes cleared his voice and told her, "I have heard and seen many things in my life, but I never heard anyone give a feline a history lesson."

She replied in mock solemnness," Ah Mr. Holmes, you mean it is not commonplace to instruct kittens in history?"

Holmes did not have a ready reply to her question because he was trying hard to keep his composure.

"Oh sir, you made no reply to my question." Then she recalled an expression she must have heard sometime in the past. "Has the cat got your tongue?"

Watson could no longer contain himself. He burst out laughing, tears running down his face. "Oh Violet, well played! "

"Come downstairs, Miss Carroll," Holmes told her. "And bring the kitten with you."

* * *

When they reached the sitting room, there stood Mrs. Hudson with the tea tray wondering where everyone in the house was. "Where were the three of you?"

"Observing Miss Carroll give a kitten a history lesson," Holmes told her in all seriousness.

She shrugged and simply replied, "I see." Then she left the room.

Holmes and Watson sat down at the table to take tea. Violet, still holding Blue Eyes, went to the window. As she had done before, she pressed her forehead to the window and look down to the street below. Holmes heard deep growl. At first, he thought it was the kitten, then realized it was coming from Violet's throat.

He stood up and joined her at the window. Violet pointed at the dark haired man standing across the street looking up at them. She turned to Holmes and said, "That is the man that grabbed me and pulled me into the alley. He is also the one who pushed Mrs. Hudson down on the sidewalk when we were returning from our shopping trip. I vow to you, when I encounter him again and I know I shall; I will find out who he is and what he knows about me and then I will kill him."

Holmes knew she was no longer in a light hearted mood. She was indeed serious about what she would do to that man when she encountered him again. He remembered Watson's earlier jest about hiding firearms and sharp knives from her. Now, the detective considered it seriously and knew he must do something about it.

**Violet goes from light heartedness to dead seriousness rather quickly. This in itself is frightening enough. Now Holmes must take steps to keep her from carrying out her threat for he knows she is a persistent and determined young woman.**

**Thank you once again Dear Readers for your support!**


	21. Chapter 21

**A STRANGER AT THE DOOR- CHAPTER 21- PROTECTION**

Now that Violet had made the declaration that she would kill the dark haired man, Holmes began to consider just what she was capable of doing.

The intensity of her emotions was quite visible as she continued looking down at the man in the street. Her hold on Blue Eyes had turned into a vise like grip. The little creature began to mew pitifully and struggle to break free from her. Holmes reached for the kitten and pried it away from Violet's grasp. He handed Blue Eyes to Watson.

She was so focused on looking out the window that she barely realized that Holmes had taken the kitten from her. Without turning towards Holmes, she asked him, "Mr. Holmes, do you have a…a" Violet searched her memory until the words came to her. "Do you have a pair of binoculars or a spyglass?"

He made a quick search of the room, located a pair of binoculars and handed them to her. It only took a few seconds for her to figure out how to use them. She looked at the man again, studying his face carefully. Once she had finished, she took the binoculars away from her eyes. "He has a scar on the left side of his face that starts just below the eye and runs all the way down to his cheek. I did not notice it before, because he grabbed me from behind when he pulled me in the alley. And the second time I encountered him, I was too busy defending Mrs. Hudson and myself to look at his face."

Finally, Violet turned to face Holmes. She handed him the binoculars. "Mr. Holmes, please look at him and confirm I am not imagining that scar on his face. Could it be possible that I did that to him?"

Holmes did as she asked. When he took the binoculars away from his eyes, he said, "Miss Carroll, you are not imagining those scars on his face. They are quite real. As to whether or not you caused them is uncertain, but what I am certain of is your willingness to defend yourself and others."

Violet reflected upon what he had just told her. In a very short time, she had defended herself, Mrs. Hudson and the kitten. Of course, the weapons available to her had been the broom and her teeth and feet. Sometime in the past, she must have used another type of weapon.

Now another question sprang to mind. Why did she have to defend herself or someone else? What had happened?

Holmes was asking himself the same two questions. He turned to his pipe. Violet, without asking, went to where the bottles of brandy, whiskey and sherry sat and poured a drink from the first bottle she put her hand on, which happened to be whiskey. Watson tried to stop her, but Holmes motioned him away from Violet.

She turned up the glass and swallowed the contents in one gulp. It took her breathe away. She tried to maintain her composure so that Holmes and Watson would not see the affect the drink had on her.

Violet sat the glass down on the table with a resounding thud and inhaled a deep breath. In the most dignified way she could manage, she sat down.

Watson observed his friend and Violet. Both of them had something they used while they were pondering a problem. He was quite used to Holmes and his pipe. However, he had serious concerns about Violet and her possible use of alcohol in the same fashion. He sat down in the chair across from her without saying anything for a moment.

Then in a low, gentle tone he said, "Violet, do you think it wise to drink so hastily? Why did you do it?"

"I am not sure. I just wanted something to give me some relief from all the things racing through my head." She held her head in her hands.

He took one of her hands and said, "Look at me." She lifted her head and looked into his eyes. "Violet, please be very careful with drink. I could harm you in ways you could not imagine."

It touched her heart in a way she could not understand. This man, who barely knew her, cared so much about her welfare. Tears rolled down her cheeks. He reached out and wiped them away with his handkerchief.

"Ouch!" Watson stopped wiping the tears away from Violet's face. "Little beast!" He was still holding Blue Eyes in his other hand. The kitten had decided that it had been ignored long enough and started nipping at Watson's fingers with its needle sharp teeth.

Violet stood up and reached for Blue Eyes. "I am so sorry. Let me take this little beast down to the kitchen for a dish of milk." She took the kitten and held it close to her face to hide her smile. When she glanced across the room and saw Holmes struggling to hide his amusement, she ran out of the room.

* * *

While wiping small dots of blood off his fingers, Watson crossed the room and sat in his chair across from Holmes. He was annoyed. "Holmes, wipe that smile off your face!"

Holmes took the pipe out of his mouth and with a straight face said, "Watson, I have no idea what you are talking about."

Watson fumed silently for a moment. "I do not believe you, but never mind. I have a question for you. Why did you keep me from talking Violet out of taking a drink? She already has enough problems as is."

"Watson, you have already seen how determined she can be when she wants something. If we had stopped her today, she would have found a way to get what she wanted later."

"Alright Holmes, remember this conversation when you find that she has a gun or knife in her hand or she is exceedingly inebriated."

"Yes doctor, I will. Instead of hiding things away from her to protect her, we need to help her protect herself."

**It appears that Holmes has changed his mind about how to protect Violet. This should prove to be quite interesting in the future.**

**Leave it to a cat to interfere in a dramatic moment! Hopefully Blue Eyes did not perforate Watson's fingers too badly! : )**

**Gentle readers, thank you once again for your support.**


	22. Chapter 22

**A STRANGER AT THE DOOR- CHAPTER 22- ENTRUSTED TO HER CARE**

Violet returned from the kitchen sans Blue Eyes. For this, Watson was much relieved. His fingers stung from the bites the kitten had given him and he did not want to see the little beast for a while.

"Doctor Watson, I am so sorry that Blue Eyes bit you. When I was so upset I had quite forgotten you were still holding him. It seems that kitten does not take to being ignored." She gave him a little smile.

When Watson saw that smile, he knew he could not stay angry with her or the kitten. "It's alright my dear. No real harm done." He held up his fingers to show her the faint marks from Blue Eye's teeth.

Violet returned to the window to look for the dark haired man, her whole body tense in anticipation that she would see him again. He was no longer standing across the street. She relaxed and sighed, "Oh, thank God he is gone."

Both Holmes and Watson noticed the way her body relaxed when she saw the man was gone. It was if all the drama of that afternoon had been washed away like the tide going out at the seashore.

Violet moved from the window and walked past Holmes as she made her way to the settee. "Tomorrow Miss Carroll, you and Watson will go out for a ride and visit Regent's Park. You have not been very far from this house since you came to us. It will be good for you to have a change of scene."

This man never ceased to surprise Violet. Why would he be concerned about her going out for a ride or having a change of scene?

Watson knew exactly why Holmes wanted them to go out. He wanted some peace and quiet; a respite from Violet's emotions. "Does that sound agreeable with you, Violet? We'll go right after breakfast."

"Yes, that would be just fine," she told the doctor. She also suspected that Holmes would like to be rid of her for a short while.

* * *

After dinner, the three of them retreated to their usual places; Holmes and Watson to their respective chairs by the fireplace and Violet to the settee. Holmes smoked his pipe and Watson a cigar. The smell of pipe and cigar smoke brought back a faint memory to Violet. She had spent evenings like this before in the company of men. Could they have been her father, uncles, brothers or a suitor?

The memory left almost as soon as it had come. She didn't feel upset or melancholy, just puzzled as to what it meant. Violet kept it to herself. Later, she would record it in her journal.

She stood up and crossed the room. Both Holmes and Watson watched her intently, for they assumed that she was going for the liquor on the sideboard across the room. Instead, she picked up a newspaper that Holmes had tossed on the floor that morning. Mrs. Hudson had somehow missed it when she had been in the room earlier in the day.

She heard a very audible sigh of relief come from both Holmes and Watson. It amused her because she realized that they thought she might take a drink again. Violet had learned a lesson from her experience earlier in the day. First, look at the bottle before you pour the drink to know what you are consuming. Second, do not swallow it all in one gulp! In her mind, there was no doubt that she would have a drink again; she just hoped she would be mindful of these two things when the time came.

Violet wondered if she had made other men so nervous by her unpredictability. Keeping a man off guard might be of benefit in protecting herself or someone she cared about. She filed that thought away deep in her mind and proceeded to the settee. Once seated, she opened the newspaper and started reading. Hardly concentrating, her eyes flit from one article to another. If someone had asked what she just read, she could no more tell them than she could fly off to the moon.

"Do find anything of interest in the newspaper, Miss Carroll?" Holmes asked her. She threw the paper on the floor. "Absolutely nothing of interest Mr. Holmes; merely words and more words. The letters seem to dance across the page. Perhaps I am merely tired."

If she had told him the truth, much of what she read made little sense to her. Perhaps it was because her memory was so lacking in the most fundamental information or because she was in a foreign country. Most likely, the true reason was her impatient nature. Those things that she grasped quickly or came to her from distant place in her memory caused her little trouble. It was when she truly had to ponder something for a while that frustrated her.

Violet reclined on the settee taking one its cushions and placing it under her head. The silence of the room combined with the glow from the fire place where hypnotic and she was soon lulled to sleep.

"Look Watson." Holmes motioned towards Violet. "She looks so peaceful, who would know there's a storm brewing just below the surface." He got up and took a blanket from his bed to cover the sleeping woman. He tucked it under her chin and brushed the hair away from her face with a tenderness that Watson had never seen his friend show before.

* * *

Sometime during the night, Violet turned over and fell on the floor of the setting room with a loud thud. Several unladylike words sprang to mind and she used them with great relish for they seemed appropriate for the situation. She sat there and looked toward the fireplace to see if Holmes was in his chair. That evening he had gone to bed.

In a whisper she said, "Maybe he did not hear me. Those words came to mind and I have a distinct feeling they are not nice ones."

"They most certainly are not, but it is quite understandable considering your fall from the settee," Holmes said. He was standing in the doorway to his bedroom.

Violet heard the amusement in his voice and turned toward him. She assumed the most dignified tone she could manage and said, "Now that I have amused you Mr. Holmes, I require your assistance in two matters. First, please help me up off the floor and second, walk with me to my room. I am already embarrassed enough, I do not want to compound it by falling as I go up the stairs."

He crossed the room and helped her up from the floor. Violet's hair was in her eyes. As she made no move to brush it away, Holmes reached out and did it for her. Suddenly, she felt quite self-conscious and stammered, "Thank you. Shall we go now?"

As they ascended the stairs to her room, Holmes remained close by her side, guiding her by gentle pressure on her right elbow. When they reached her room, she turned to him and said a quick "Good night",praying that he would not linger there another moment. Both nervous and embarrassed, she wanted nothing more than to crawl in her bed. Holmes sensed this. He bade her "Good night" and returned to the sitting room.

* * *

The first rays of the morning sun assaulted Violet's eyes. Groaning, she sat up and held her head for a moment. Details of her fall from the settee and its aftermath played through her mind. Her left hip throbbed from where she had hit the floor with such force. Violet winced as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and put her feet on the floor.

It was then she recalled that she and Watson were to go out to Regent's Park that morning. She looked down and realized she still wore the clothes from the previous day. They were quite rumpled. Violet removed them and changed into her other skirt and blouse. She had no problem putting on the blouse, but the skirt posed a challenge to her for she almost fell trying to put it on.

Once dressed, she picked it her mirror and looked at her face and hair. She noticed a small red spot on her left cheek. It was a friction burn from where he face had hit the carpet so forcefully. Violet touched it and winced. As for her hair, it stood out in wild profusion. She took her brush and worked it into submission as far as her limited patience would allow.

Watson immediately noticed Violet's limp as she entered the setting room. "Violet, whatever is the matter with you?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but Holmes answered Watson's question. "Miss Carroll fell off the settee during the night."

Violet huffed, turned to face Holmes and said, "Sir, I am quite capable of speaking for myself. Due to my Southern accent, I make speak slowly, but I assure you I do not think slowly!"

"Holmes!" Watson whispered as a warning. Violet was certainly capable of speaking for herself.

Holmes mumbled his apologies to Violet. She acknowledged him with a nod of her head and began eating breakfast. Now Watson was very sure that Holmes would relish a quiet morning alone.

* * *

The morning air was cool, but the sun shone brightly and held the promise of a pleasant outing for Watson and Violet. The doctor hailed a cab and they were on their way.

When Violet stepped down from the cab, she had to resist the urge to run and immerse herself in the wide expanse of green grass she saw. Its appearance gave her a feeling of great freedom. She wanted to run on it, to lie on it and caress the blades of grass with her fingers. Instead, she took Watson's arm when he offered it to her and they walked slowly

As much as Violet wanted to run, she knew it would be difficult to do so because of her left hip. It throbbed with pain and ever so often she would have to ask Watson to stop and let her pause a moment to rest.

"Violet, do you wish to return to Baker Street? It is evident that you are in pain. We can always come back on another day."

"Thank you, but no. I want to stay here a while longer."

"Very well then, but I want you to sit down for a few minutes." He smiled at her. "That is my prescription for you."

They found a bench and sat down. She relaxed and found that the pain in her hip had lessened. The thought of a whole day spent like this brought a smile to her lips. The weather was perfect in her mind. The air was cool, not bitingly cold and the sun was shining. To add to this, her companion was a most kind and considerate man.

Violet was so lost in thought, that she did not feel the tug on her skirt right away. Watson gave her a gentle nudge and pointed at the small boy standing in front of her. She looked down into the face of the child she had saved from being trodden underfoot by horses.

"Hello Timo…Jonathan." She looked around to see if his nanny was nearby. When she did not see her, Violet felt panic and concern for his safety rising within her. She endeavored to keep her voice calm when she asked him, "Where is your nanny?"

"Oh, she is not here, but my mum is." He pointed toward a dark haired woman running their way.

When the woman found him, she bent down and held him tightly. "Oh Jonathan, I thought I had lost you. Please stay by my side at all times!"

He wriggled out of her embrace and told her, "Mum, this is the lady who saved me from the horses."

His mother looked up at Violet and said, "How can I ever thank you enough for saving Jonathan?"

"All I ask of you," Violet told her, "is that you see that he is looked after better. Tell me, do you still employ the same nanny?"

"No, she was dismissed soon after the incident with Jonathan and the horses. He told me what had happened. I have not engaged another one yet."

Violet looked directly into the woman's eyes and said emphatically, "Choose the next one wisely. Your child deserves to be protected at all cost."

"Yes, I will. May I ask your name?" the woman responded.

Violet hesitated to give her name, but she finally did. "My name is Violet."

"Thank you again, Violet, for saving my little boy."

"You are most welcome. I tell you again, protect him at all costs."

The woman stood up and placed her hand on Jonathan's shoulder, "Yes, I shall." As the two of them walked away, the little boy called back, "Good bye Miss Violet." He waved and smiled at her. That face, those dark eyes tugged at her heart.

Once they were gone, she turned to Watson and said, "I am unsure which I now desire more; to discover my true identity or to know the ones that had been entrusted to my care are safe."

Watson asked her, "What do you mean by knowing if the ones entrusted to your care are safe?"

"I am remembering more about my life before I came to be with you and Mr. Holmes. I will tell you about it on the way back to Baker Street. I am ready to return there now."

**A cab ride and a visit to the park, Violet's world has widened a bit. Seeing Jonathan again has stirred up more memories for her.**

**I wonder what Holmes has been doing in Violet and Watson's absence?**

**My Dear Readers, thank you so much for your continued support!**


	23. Chapter 23

**A STRANGER AT THE DOOR- CHAPTER 23- AGITATION AND DISTURBANCE**

During the return trip to Baker Street, Violet related her dreams and the things she had started to remember to the doctor. "These things are a jumble in my mind. I will relate them to you in as coherent manner as possible." She turned to look at Watson and saw an encouraging expression on his face. He nodded and she began.

"I have two recurring dreams. One I call the dark dream and one the dream of light. In the dark dream it is night and I am walking along a riverside alone. Someone comes up from behind and pushed me in the water. I struggle to come back up to the surface only to be knocked unconscious by the dark haired man."

"In the dream of light, I am on the seashore. The sun is shining brightly and the breeze is pleasant. I see a lighthouse off in the distance. The cry of seagulls and the waves washing ashore can be heard. A little boy with dark curly hair, Timothy, is on the beach with me. He is picking up seashells and when he offers me one, he calls me "Miss V". The feeling of the dream is one of joy and peace."

"The other things I remember now are attacking the dark haired man with a weapon and feeling that I am responsible for protecting others; Timothy being one of them."

She sighed and continued, "Of course, I have remembered other things as well such as certain words or expressions. And I do now believe that I have always had a fearsome temper." Violet appeared a little distressed by her last statement.

Watson could not help but smile at her. "Violet, there is no doubt about your temper. You cannot change your personality, only the way you react to certain situations."

A smile slowly spread across her face. "I should remember that the next time Mr. Holmes upsets me."

The doctor chuckled. "Yes, perhaps you should."

* * *

A morning without Violet in Baker Street should have been welcomed by Holmes. However, he found her absence unsettling. He felt exceptionally restless. Nothing he turned his hand to satisfied him. Every newspaper, every book he picked up to read was quickly tossed on the floor. He even attempted a chemistry experiment and became frustrated with it. The detective fidgeted and paced the sitting room, occasionally looking out the window. If questioned, he would not have admitted that he was watching for Watson and Violet's return.

He lit a cigarette and smoked. First, he would sit in his chair, then get up and go to the window and repeat the process; smoke trailing behind him as he moved. When he saw the cab pull up in front of 221B, he was down the stairs and out the front door in a heartbeat.

Violet had barely begun to leave her seat before the door to the cab was opened and a pale hand with long fingers thrust inside to help her out. She was so stunned by this behavior that she hesitated before she made a move to leave the cab. Realizing that the hand belonged to Holmes, she put her hand in his and stepped down from the cab. He ushered her in the house without a word to Watson and nearly closed the door in his face.

It was evident that the doctor was puzzled by his friend's behavior when he entered the sitting room by the expression on his face. As he crossed the room to his chair, he glanced at Violet. She smiled at him and shrugged. She was as mystified as Watson.

In all the years he had known Holmes, Watson had seen his friend exhibit what others would consider odd quirks, but he accepted them as part and parcel of his friend's personality. But this was truly without parallel. Holmes had always seemed indifferent to women and was only interested in them as it pertained to a case.

Due to his friend's sudden change in behavior, Watson very briefly entertained the thought that Holmes had injected himself with cocaine while he and Violet were gone. He had done it before when he had no cases pending and the detective could not abide boredom.

What made it even more baffling was the fact that Holmes had retreated back into his shell of seeming indifference once Violet was in the sitting room at her customary place once more. He was in his chair by the fireplace sitting sphinx like and smoking a pipe.

Violet told him of her experience in Regent's Park. "Mr. Holmes, I saw Timothy, I mean Jonathan, again today. He was at Regent's Park and had wandered off from his mother who was frantically searching for him. When she saw him with me, he told her I was the one who had saved him from being trampled by horses. She thanked me and I told her to watch him closely. This is not the first time I have protected a child from danger. I have a great concern to know if Timothy is safe, almost more important to me than knowing my own identity."

When he made no response, she first thought he was not paying attention to her. As she opened her mouth to repeat what she had said, he responded. "Miss Carroll, how can you know if Timothy is safe if you do not know your identity and where you are from?"

"I suppose you are right." Violet then proceeded to tell him everything she had related to Watson during the return to Baker Street. Holmes listened intently.

He removed the pipe from his mouth and said, "You must endeavor to remember more."

She sighed and raked her fingers through her hair. "Yes, without a doubt. However, unless you are a magician it is unlikely to happen quickly. I cannot do it on command."

Holmes grunted. Watson shook his head and chuckled.

Not saying a word, Violet got up and had walked half way across the room, when Holmes asked her, "Where are you going Miss Carroll?"

She turned to him and said, "To my room. Must I account for my every move? Surely, you can do without my presence in this room some of the time? I would think you would be glad for me to be somewhere else, even for a short while. Now, if you will excuse me."

* * *

Once she was gone, Watson asked his friend the question that had been on his mind since he had stepped inside their Baker Street lodgings upon his return from the cab ride with Violet. "Did Violet's absence this morning disturb you? You seemed agitated when she and I arrived back here."

Holmes exhaled a grand plume of pipe smoke. He hesitated to answer Watson's question.

"Come now, Holmes. Answer my question."

The detective fixed his grey eyes on Watson and said, "Yes."

" Holmes is that your only answer?"

"Yes Watson, I mean her both her presence and her absence disturb me."

**Oh my, what is going on with Holmes? She disturbs him when she is around him and when she is not around him. I do wonder what this means?**

**Once again, Dear Readers, I thank you for your support!**


	24. Chapter 24

**A STRANGER AT THE DOOR- CHAPTER 24- IDENTITY**

The following morning Holmes was back to his usual self. When Violet came down to the sitting room for breakfast, she greeted the detective and Watson with a "Good Morning". The doctor returned her greeting, but Holmes merely nodded. As was her habit, she looked out the window before she sat down at the table. "Daniel is out there again."

"Who are you talking about, Miss Carroll?"

She pointed at the man standing across the street. "Mr. Holmes, are you deaf? I said Daniel is across the street."

Holmes joined her at the window, looking over her shoulder. He pushed her thick shoulder length hair away from her face as if it would obstruct his view of the street. It was a totally unnecessary gesture on his part for he was much taller than her. Violet glanced up at him and gave him a questioning look. He backed away several inches from her.

"Miss Carroll, do you realize that you have just said that man's name twice? This is the first time you have put a name with his face."

Violet was bewildered. His name came so naturally to her, as if she had known it all along. It frightened her that she suddenly knew the man's name without really trying to remember it.

She tried to calm herself, but her body betrayed her and she began to tremble so badly that the detective had to guide her back to her chair. Would a flood of memories assault her all at once?

Watson asked her, "Violet, are you alright?" When she did not answer him, he touched her hand to get her attention. It was a full minute before she responded. When she answered, it sounded far away. "Yes doctor, I am alright."

She raked her fingers through her hair, raised her face to look at Homes and said with a wry smile, "Perhaps you are a magician after all, Mr. Holmes. I seemed to have remembered Daniel's name with no conscious effort on my part." For some reason she could not fathom, Violet took pleasure in teasing the man just to see his reaction.

He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "Miss Carroll, I am no magician."

She slumped in her chair and crossed her arms. "That is quite evident Mr. Holmes; otherwise you would have already transported me home."

Watson had no need to attend concerts or plays to have a ready source of entertainment. All he needed was to watch these exchanges between the young woman and Holmes. They had become part of the daily routine at 221B as much as her habits of always looking out the window when she entered the sitting room or her taking her place on the settee.

What would become of his friend when she was no longer part of their lives? Did his friend truly want to solve the mystery of Miss Violet Carroll if it meant she would be gone from Baker Street forever?

* * *

A huge bundle of newspapers arrived in the morning post. Holmes unceremoniously placed them in Violet's lap. She looked down at them and back up at him. "What do you want me to do with these?"

Holmes returned to his chair and sat down. "I want you to look for an obituary."

While Violet was processing in her mind what an obituary was, Watson said, "Holmes, why on earth do you want her to search for an obituary?"

Holmes ignored his friend's question. He was taking a secret delight in Violet's confusion. If he and the young woman were going to play verbal games, it was his turn and he relished it.

She finally recalled what an obituary was. "Mr. Holmes you may not be a magician, but you are most certainly a maddening man. Why should I be reading these newspapers?"

He had the strong desire to say "Because I said so!" Instead he told her, "Because they are issues of the _Savannah Daily Morning News _and the _Charleston Post and Courier _from six months ago. Mycroft obtained them from the American ambassador. Just read and see if you recognize any names or anything else you find in them.

"Very well, Mr. Holmes." She opened the first newspaper and began a long day of reading. By the time Mrs. Hudson brought dinner, the floor of the sitting room was littered with newspapers. Violet had a fierce headache and her eyes watered. Names, places and dates danced around in her head.

She only had one more page left to read in the last newspaper of the bundle Holmes had given her that morning. It was the obituary of one Veronica Carlisle. Violet tossed the newspaper on the floor and told Holmes, "I have found a name that seems familiar, but I do not know why."

"Who is it, Miss Carroll?" Holmes asked her.

"It is the name of a Miss Veronica Carlisle of Savannah who passed away six months ago."

Holmes left his chair and sat down at the table. Watson joined him. Violet remained where she was, immobile.

"Come to the table, Miss Carroll," Holmes ordered softly. When she did not respond he repeated himself. He started to get up and forcibly bring her to the table.

Watson put his hand on Holmes' arm to stop him. "Leave her alone. She is tired, confused and most likely upset."

Holmes relented but he continued to watch her closely. After several minutes had passed, Violet got up and went over to where the whiskey bottle was sitting. She poured herself a drink and downed it in one gulp.

After the amber liquid had coursed its way through her veins, she turned to Holmes and Watson. "Good night gentlemen. I have had quite enough, I am going to bed."

* * *

Exhausted, Violet lay down on her bed looking forward to a night of dreamless sleep. It was not to be.

"_Roni, Roni, do you think you can get away from me gal? Run and hide. I'll find you. Mark my words, I'll find you!" Daniel, the dark haired man was pursuing her. She could almost feel his hot breath on her neck. Running in the dark in a long skirt, nearly tripping over downed tree branches and rocks made getting away from him exceedingly difficult. By some miracle, she had managed to stay just one step ahead of him. Only heaven knew how this would end. _

_She hid behind a tree and stopped to reassure herself that the knife was still tucked inside her right boot. Then she continued to run until her foot sunk in a hole and she fell. Before she knew it, Daniel was on top of her with his hands around her throat. As the young woman struggled to pry his fingers off her throat with one hand, she pulled up her leg and reached in her boot with the other hand to grab the knife. Once the knife was in her grasp, she slashed at his face._

_Daniel rolled off of her, holding his face and screaming in pain. She took off running and continued until her lungs burned and her legs gave out on her._

Violet sat straight up in the bed. In the darkened room, she saw the glow from the end of a lit cigarette. Holmes was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Mr. Holmes, what are you doing here sitting on my bed?"

He exhaled a long plume of cigarette smoke and said, "I heard you call out in your sleep. You must have been having a nightmare. Tell me about it."

"Now?" she sighed.

"Yes now, Violet. Or is your real name Veronica?"

She recalled the man in her nightmare calling her "Roni", which must be a nickname for Veronica. "Yes, Mr. Holmes. Veronica must be my real name.

**Now we have the beginnings of Violet learning her identity and know how the dark haired man got the wound on his face. **

**Do you think the relationship between Holmes and Violet is changing? Time will tell.**

**Thank you so much for reading! **


	25. Chapter 25

**A STRANGER AT THE DOOR- CHAPTER 25- NOT LIKE MOST WOMEN**

Sometime during the night, the chill of autumn became the bitter cold of winter. Violet curled herself into a ball in an attempt to keep warm. She began to shiver so violently that the bed shook. She definitely was not used to cold weather.

Holmes had remained in the room after Violet had related the dream to him and was now sitting in the chair next to her bed. "You are cold."

Violet had been lying on her side, turned away from him. She rolled over to face him and sat up. "Mr. Holmes you have a great gift for stating the obvious. Please hand me my dressing gown. It is at the foot of the bed."

Once she had put on the dressing gown, Violet got out of the bed and quickly put on her slippers. She grabbed a blanket off the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. "I am going to the sitting room. If I cannot sleep,then at least I shall be warmer there."

She quickly made her way to the sitting room and sat down in Watson's chair with the blanket pulled tightly around her body.

"You must have a coat and warmer clothing." Holmes sat across from her. He lit his pipe and began smoking. The smoke encircled both the detective and Violet. The scent of the tobacco teased a memory from Violet's mind and she retreated to it.

_There had been many evenings where she sat with a man smoking a pipe. Sometimes they conversed, other times they read. Often, she would fall asleep sitting there._

_There was a memory of voices. _

"_We cannot discuss this now with Veronica in the room," the man with the pipe said_

"_But she is asleep and cannot hear a word of what we need to talk about."_

"_Alright Henry, but we are taking a great chance by discussing this matter in her presence."_

"Veronica, did you hear me?" Holmes' voice brought her back to the present.

She held up her hand and said, "Not Veronica. Call me Violet or Miss Carroll for now. " For some reason, being called Veronica made her very uncomfortable. "Mr. Holmes you just said something about me needing a coat and warmer clothes. I suppose that should be taken care of without delay."

"Indeed. I shall go with you in the morning to make the purchases of those items."

"But, surely Mrs. Hudson and I could do that."

"I want to make sure it happens without incident."

"Whatever do you mean "without incident"?"

He was silent for several minutes and then answered her. "I mean that there will be no need of any "weapons" to fend off an attacker and no ripped clothing as a result of that sort of an encounter."

Violet smiled slightly at the mention of ripped clothing. "The very idea of it must make the man very uncomfortable," she thought. Yet, this curious man seemed to be concerned for her safety and well being. Her vague memories of other men were very different.

The warmth from the fire and the blanket wrapped around her lulled her to sleep. For a short time she slept peacefully until she became so relaxed that she almost fell out of the chair. Holmes caught her before that happened. He almost directed her to his bed. His only thought was one of practicality. It would be much more comfortable for her to lie down than to continue sleeping sitting up in that chair.

He decided that idea would not do. Instead, he directed her to the settee. She lay down and he covered her up with the blanket she had been wearing. He returned to his chair to watch her sleep. For reasons he could not fathom, Violet's safety and well being had become of paramount importance to him.

* * *

Violet groaned loudly when Mrs. Hudson drew back the curtains and sunlight flooded the sitting room. She shielded her eyes by throwing an arm over her face. After a few minutes, she sat up and opened her eyes fully. Out the corner of her right eye she saw a hand extended over her shoulder. The long, pale fingers held a hair brush. She looked up at the owner of the hand before she took the hair brush. Sherlock Holmes seemed to have an inordinate interest in the appearance of her hair.

She took the brush and ran it through her hair until she was reasonably assured that it looked better than it did when she had awakened. It was difficult to be certain without looking at her hair in a mirror, but it was the best she could do at that moment. Evidently, Holmes was satisfied with the result as he left her and sat down at the table.

When Violet joined him at the table, she asked, "Is it to be only the two of us on this shopping expedition today?"

"Yes. Watson has been called out to attend to a patient and Mrs. Hudson has many chores to take care of today."

"I see." Violet was apprehensive about going out with Holmes without the company of someone else. It felt quite awkward, but the trip was a necessity. She did need a coat and warmer clothing. Hopefully, the purchases could be made with a minimum of time and effort.

* * *

Less than an hour later, Holmes and Violet were in a shop. She first looked at the coats and found a plain black one. It fit and without further consideration, she declared that it would be suitable.

"Are you certain, Miss Carroll?" Holmes was surprised she had made her selection so quickly. The young woman seemed to be in a hurry to conclude this business and he wondered why. He would ask her the reason for such haste when they returned to Baker Street.

Her other selections consisted of a scarf, gloves and two very plain woolen dresses. Violet had already made up her mind that undergarments and stockings would be purchased at a time when she was not with Holmes. That was a trip that necessitated the company of another woman.

Before they left the shop, Holmes assisted Violet in putting on the new coat. She put on the gloves and wrapped the scarf around her neck. He reached up and pulled her hair out from under the scarf. "My goodness," she thought. "What is it about my hair that he feels he must adjust it all the time?" She supposed she would continue to ponder this question because she certainly would not ask him about it.

The sales clerk had carefully folded the two dresses and placed them in a box. Holmes paid for the purchases and he and Violet left the shop. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the reflection of a man in the shop window. He was blond with a mustache. Without thinking, she grabbed Holmes' arm. As he started to pull his arm away from her grasp, she clutched at him even harder.

In a low voice he asked her, "What is the matter?"

She composed herself and answered, "I saw the reflection of a blond haired man in the shop window. It looked like Jimmy" She hesitated for a moment and then recalled his full name. "James Arthur Carlisle. He was the first man I saw standing across the street looking up at the window of your Baker Street dwelling. Other than his name, I have no recollection of how he may be related to me." Then she let go of Holmes' arm and looked up at him with both fear and confusion showing in her eyes and said, "I should like to return home…to Baker Street… immediately."

On the cab ride back to Baker Street, Violet was silent. She tried to remember anything she could about Jimmy. Was he her husband, brother, uncle, or cousin? He appeared much too young to have been her father.

Then she realized that James Arthur Carlisle was one of the men in her memory. He was the one with the pipe; the one who did not want to discuss something in her presence even though she was asleep.

And who was the other man, the one James called Henry?

* * *

Watson greeted Holmes and Violet at the front door. He took the box containing the dresses from Violet and placed them on the hall table. He then helped her remove her coat and scarf.

"Violet, I am surprised that you and Holmes have returned so soon. Most women like to shop for hours."

Holmes then made an observation that surprised both Violet and Watson. "Miss Carroll is not like most women."

**What on earth did Holmes mean when he said Violet was not like other women? Hopefully, there will be an answer to this question very soon.**

**Also, who are James and Henry and how are they related to Violet? **

**Thank you for reading!**

.


	26. Chapter 26

**A STRANGER AT THE DOOR- CHAPTER 26- APPERANCE AND OBSERVATION**

"Not like other women." Those words echoed in Violet's mind for the remainder of the day. What did Holmes mean? Was she unique or odd? Were those words spoken in admiration? She had no ready memories to guide her in deciphering what he meant. Perhaps Watson could help her. He had been Holmes' friend for a long time. She hoped she would soon have the opportunity to speak with the doctor privately.

On the matter of James Carlisle and the man called Henry, she dug deeply into the recesses of her mind for more memories concerning them. The harder she worked at it, the more frustrated she became. Violet fidgeted and paced the sitting room like a caged animal. She would stop at the liquor bottles and caress them as if they were a loved one, but she did not open one to pour a drink.

Holmes grew annoyed with her behavior and left his chair by the fireplace. He stormed across the room to stop her. Violet's back was to him and when he was a hair's breath away, she turned around to face him. She stood on tip toe with her nose almost touching his. "Mr. Holmes, what do you want of me?"

"I want you to stop fidgeting and pacing the room. It is quite annoying, Miss Carroll!"

"Mr. Holmes, I have observed that you often smoke a pipe when you are thinking on a solution to a problem. Is this not true?"

"Yes, it is."

"You smoke a pipe, I fidget and pace! I can do that or drink to excess. Which do you prefer?" Her face was red and her hands on her hips.

She was in dead earnest as she talked to Holmes. However, Watson could not help but find the scene amusing. His friend and the young woman were alike in some ways.

The detective back away from her and answered quietly, "I prefer you fidget and pace the room much more than seeing you drink to excess."

He returned to his chair and she sat down on the settee, exhausted from her outburst.

Dinner passed in an awkward silence. Violet barely touched her food. When Mrs. Hudson came to take the dishes away, she followed her to the kitchen.

* * *

Watson took the opportunity of Violet's absence from the sitting room to ask Holmes what he had meant when he said she was "not like other women".

"Holmes, why do you say that Violet is unlike other women? I've never heard you make a remark like that before."

Holmes made his fingers into a steeple and looked at Watson with his piercing gray eyes. "Miss Carroll seems to have little interest in things that other women deem important."

To Watson, this answer was insufficient. "What do you mean the "things other women deem important?"

"She is not enamored with shopping. Elaborate clothing, hats, jewelry hold no interest for her…" Holmes trailed off and did not finish the sentence.

"Holmes, she may not show interest in those things because she does not remember them," Watson reminded his friend. "However, maybe she just has simple tastes and is a practical woman. That may be her true nature."

"Watson, I mean more than just her lack of interest in finery. She is a very independent and determined young woman."

"Surely Holmes, you have encountered independent and determined women before. But you have never had one living under the same roof with you." Holmes seemed to be struggling for the right words to express what he meant about Violet. Watson sensed it and made a suggestion. "My friend, I see that you are having trouble expressing what you feel. Let us leave this subject for another time."

The ending of the conversation caused a visible wave of relief to wash over the detective. It was troubling to him not to be able to express, much less understand what he was feeling.

* * *

Violet had gone down to the kitchen with Mrs. Hudson to get a respite from Holmes' scrutiny of her behavior. "Mrs. Hudson, it must be very difficult for Mr. Holmes to have me here. It is obvious that I make him uncomfortable."

Mrs. Hudson chuckled and replied, "Yes, it is difficult for him. You have turned his ordered world upside down and he does not know what to make of it. However, you have presented him with a new challenge and that is a good thing. He is most impossible to deal with when he is bored."

"Mrs. Hudson, I am intrigued. Please tell me what you mean when you say he is impossible to deal with when he is bored." Violet propped her head on her chin, all attention.

The landlady told her about Holmes making a "VR" in one of the walls of the sitting room by shooting a gun at it. Violet had little memory of guns and their uses, but the thought of someone discharging one inside a house frightened her. "Mrs. Hudson, please forgive my ignorance. What does "V R" mean?"

"That is alright my dear," Mrs. Hudson told Violet as she patted her hand. "V R" stands for Victoria Regina, which is Latin for Queen Victoria. Queen Victoria is the ruler of Great Britain, the country where you are now."

"Thank you for explaining that to me. I might well have known what Victoria Regina meant at one time, but that seems to be absent from my memory now." Violet made what had become a characteristic motion; she raked her fingers through her hair. "My goodness, you have to put up with a lot of odd behavior from Mr. Holmes!" Violet hoped that he did not become bored anytime soon.

"There is something else you should know about Mr. Holmes." The tone of Mrs. Hudson's voice became very serious. "Sometimes, when he is without a case, he will inject himself with dangerous drugs; cocaine or morphine. He says it stimulates the mind, but it causes him to exhibit very erratic behavior. Dr. Watson has told him that if he continues to use it that it will destroy the gifts that make him a great detective. "

Violet recalled the day she found the syringe in Holmes' desk drawer and now understood the revulsion she felt at the sight of it.

"And now, I am the relief for his boredom? What will happened to him when I am gone?" she asked Mrs. Hudson.

"Oh Violet, I cannot begin to imagine what he would be like when that happens." Mrs. Hudson shuddered at the very thought of it.

* * *

Later in the evening, Violet entered the sitting room quietly and was about to take her usual place on the settee when she saw Holmes lounging, one arm and leg hanging down on the floor. He looked as if her were asleep, but she had her doubts when she saw him stir ever so slightly. The young woman stood there and made a study of Holmes' form and appearance. He was tall and thin; pale in complexion with a long hawk- like nose. His fingers were long and ink- stained. From her brief encounters with the touch of his hands, she knew he possessed a delicacy of touch that was surprising. Was he handsome? She did not know. She could not remember enough of the appearance of other men to make a comparison.

As she turned away to cross the room and sit in his chair, he rose from the settee. Violet was now embarrassed because she realized he had not been asleep and he knew she had been observing him. If he knew of her discomfort, he did not show it. Instead he asked, "Miss Carroll, what did you observe from watching me while I was lying on the settee?"

She clinched and unclinched her hands into fists and sighed, "What do you mean? Are you referring to your physical appearance or something more?"

Holmes smiled ever so slightly and said, "Tell me what you will."

For the briefest of moments, she closed her eyes. For no apparent reason, Violet felt compelled to make a comparison between the appearance of James Carlisle and Holmes. She summoned a mental picture of James Carlisle. He was tall, muscular, blond hair and mustache and possessed piercing blue eyes. Yes, she believed he could be considered handsome. But she also sensed he was evil. The she did the same thing in regards to Holmes, recalling everything she had observed about him. He was tall, but thin. His hair was dark and his complexion pale. He possessed a hawk- like nose. His eyes were also piercing, but gray in color. She would not say he was handsome, but he was most interesting in appearance. However, it was more than his physical appearance that made him interesting to her. He was for all his oddities, a good and decent man.

Violet decided to keep these thoughts to herself and merely answered, "I observe that you are unique. There is nothing more I wish to say on the matter at this time."

"That is all you have observed Miss Carroll?"

"No Mr. Holmes, I said that there is nothing more I wish to say on the matter at this time." There was much more she could have told him, but she simply did not want to do it for fear of criticism from him. "As far as I am concerned, that puts an end to this line of questioning." She sat down in his chair with her arms crossed giving no indication that she would move from it.

Holmes retreated to his bedroom and slammed the door.

Violet leaned forward and asked Watson, "Whatever is the matter with Mr. Holmes? "

"Violet, he does not know what to make of you and that troubles him greatly. He does not understand what he is feeling and does not yet know what to do about it."

She sat back rather forcefully in the chair, her arms still crossed. "Then he and I have something in common. I do not know what to make of him!"

**This writer realizes that this chapter is a study in character and appearance more than anything else. More revelations to come in the next chapter.**

**Thank you so much for reading!**


	27. Chapter 27

**A STRANGER AT THE DOOR- CHAPTER 27- FEAR **

Holmes opened his bedroom door just enough to peek out and see if Violet was still in the sitting room and seated in his chair. She was still in the room but had moved to the settee. He opened the door and eased himself into the room. His cautious movement reminded Watson of someone trying to tip-toe around a snarling dog.

Watson held the book he was reading up to his face to hide his amusement at watching the way Holmes re-entered the room.

Once Holmes was seated, he glanced across the room at Violet. The moment it appeared that she would look in his direction, he would gaze intently at the fireplace. She played this game with him for several minutes, although she was sure he did not consider it a game.

Finally, she stopped the game and closed her eyes in an attempt to evoke more memories of James and Henry from the recesses of her mind. Doing this was far more important than anything else because it would bring her one step closer to finding the information she needed.

Holmes opened his mouth to say something to her, but Watson stopped him and pointed at Violet; deep in thought with her hands on knees and her eyes shut tight. She breathed slowly. It was then apparent to the detective that she was trying to remember something.

Violet recalled the previous memory of James and Henry. James' appearance was known to her, Henry's had remained a mystery. She concentrated on Henry, on anything at all about him that she could bring to the forefront of her mind. Finally, something about him came to her. He was shorter than James with light brown hair. The only thing that was like James was his eyes. They were the same piercing blue color. Perhaps they were brothers or cousins to each other. As soon as the memory had come to her, it evaporated away.

She opened her eyes to see Holmes' gaze fixed on her. Violet then did something she had never done . She patted the empty space next to her on the settee; summoning him to come and sit beside her.

Watson held his breath, waiting to see a battle of wills play out between Holmes and Violet. However, no battle ensued. His friend got up without hesitation and sat beside the young woman.

Violet and Holmes turned to face each other. She began to share her memories of James and Henry with him. "When I am here in this sitting room in the evening with you and Watson in the firelight, I recall another time when I sat with James Carlisle. We talked for a while. I became very sleepy and closed my eyes. Another man entered the room. James called him Henry. Henry had come to discuss something with him, but James hesitated saying he did not want to discuss it in my presence. Henry told him it would be alright because I was asleep. Although Henry's hair was light brown and he was shorter than James. I think the two men must be related somehow for they possess the same piercing blue eyes."

Violet saw the look of expectancy on Holmes face. He was waiting for her to relate more information to him, but she had nothing else to tell him. "If I had remembered anything else Mr. Holmes, I would have told you."

Something sounding like cross between a grunt and a low growl came from his throat. Was he angry or frustrated with her? A sudden wave of fear washed over her. This fear felt familiar to her. But she didn't understand why. As a means of protecting herself, she physically pulled away from him. Holmes was surprised that this usually brave and outspoken young woman had suddenly become so frightened.

"Miss Carroll, did I frighten you? It was not my intent. It was merely frustration with the fact that you cannot remember more. If that is all you can tell me now, so be it. You have no reason to ever fear me."

She merely nodded to indicate that she had heard him. Somewhere in the past, a man had wanted answers from her that she was unable to give and his anger had been violently unleashed on her. A dim echo of that memory had come to her and she momentarily relived the fear she had felt then.

One look into her terror filled eyes and Holmes realized she was reliving some past experience. He gently asked her, "Has someone in the past made you afraid of what they might do to you if you could not tell them what they wanted to know?"

"Yes." Her answer was barely audible.

"Did they harm you when you could not give them what they wanted?"

"Yes, I believe so. " She looked away from Holmes and down at her hands.

Watson watched this scene between his friend and Violet. He struggled not to get up and go to comfort her. He was gratified to see Holmes place his hand on hers and tell her, "As it is within my power Miss Carroll, no one will ever harm you again."

She looked up at him and said, "Thank you Mr. Holmes. That gives me great comfort." He gave her the briefest of smiles and removed his hand. He moved just a fraction closer to her. "Now, I want you to take your time and write down all you have remembered about yourself and your past circumstances. Put everything down you can recall in an orderly and coherent manner as possible."

"Yes Mr. Holmes, I shall do so now." She stood up and started to leave the room.

Holmes reached out, very gently took her hand and turned her to face him. "There is no need to leave this very minute to make a record of your memories. Stay here now and be at ease."

She was genuinely surprised that he did not want her to go and follow his instructions immediately. She sat back down. Holmes crossed the room and poured her a brandy. When handed it to her, he told her, "Take this. You have recalled a frightening experience. I only ask that you drink this slowly. "

Violet smiled at him and said, "I shall. " She took a small sip and felt its warmth course through her and relaxed, placing her head against the back of the settee. Holding the drink in her right hand, she placed her left hand at her side. Rather than return to his chair, he remained seated beside her; his hand barely touching the side of Violet's hand.

Holmes' behavior with Violet confirmed something that Watson had always believed about his friend. Deep within the detective there was a compassionate heart. Another thought occurred to him as well. Heaven help anyone who harmed Violet Carroll for they would have Sherlock Holmes to contend with!

* * *

At breakfast the next morning, Violet presented Holmes with the information he had requested from her. She had concerns that he would consider it an adequate report. If she allowed fear of his disapproval to overtake her, she would be paralyzed and nothing would be accomplished in the mission to recover her identity and find out the circumstances that brought her Sherlock Holmes' doorstep.

"Mr. Holmes here is the information you requested. I have given it my best effort." Her hand trembled as she handed him the piece of paper it was written on."

As he reviewed the list, he read it out loud.

"_1- American accent, "low country", Savannah, Georgia or Charleston, South Carolina_

_2- Dream of being pushed into river, almost drowning by someone's hand_

_3- James "Jimmy" Carlisle, blond haired man with mustache, watching from across the street_

_4- Daniel, dark haired man with scar on face, attacked me in alley_

_5 –Timothy, little boy in dream of lighthouse and beach_

_6 –Obituary of a Veronica Carlisle of Savannah, deceased six months before my arrival at Baker Street_

_7 – Dream of being chased and attacked by Daniel. Defending myself with knife._

_8- Recollection of being in sitting room with Daniel and Henry while they discussed something important, believing I was asleep and could not hear them._

_9- Henry is shorter than James, has light brown, but same blue eyes. Possibly brothers or cousins?_

_10- Great fear when unable to answer Mr. Holmes questions. I experienced memory of some past experience of being harmed because inability to answer a man's questions."_

He handed the piece of paper back to her. "There are two omissions to this list that come to mind. One is the pendant with the initial "V" you were wearing the night you were thrown here." The sound of the word "thrown" made Violet wince, but it was an accurate description.

"The second omission being the scars on your hand." He took her hand and ran his finger over the scars. "How did these happen?" Holmes held her hand a little longer than Violet deem necessary and she pulled it out of his grasp.

Violet sighed, pushed her hair away from her face and answered in a whisper, "I wish I knew." She folded the piece of paper and laid it beside her tea cup.

As hungry as she was that morning, she did not touch a morsel of breakfast. She made no attempt at conversation with Holmes or Watson. After awhile she rose from the table without a word and left the room.

"Holmes, she is not herself. Since last evening, it is as if the fire inside of her has been extinguished."

"I know Watson, I know." When he turned to look at the doctor, the distress he felt for Violet was quite evident in his gray eyes.

**Dear Readers, my apologies for the delay in posting this chapter. Now that the Christmas holidays have past, I hope to post new chapters on a more frequent basis.**

**As always, I thank you for reading this story and I truly appreciate your support!**


	28. Chapter 28

**A STRANGER AT THE DOOR- CHAPTER 28- QUESTIONS**

When Violet did not appear in the sitting room the next morning as was her usual routine, Holmes went looking for her and found her in the kitchen with Mrs. Hudson. In an irritated tone of voice he asked, "Miss Carroll why are you here?"

After a decent night's sleep, she felt more herself and was in the mood to play verbal games with him. She answered his question with a question. "Mr. Holmes, would this be a philosophical question as to the nature of my existence or do you want to know why I am in the kitchen with Mrs. Hudson?"

The landlady's eyes twinkled as she bit her lip to keep from smiling at Violet's response to Holmes question.

He huffed and said, "Why are you in the kitchen with Mrs. Hudson?"

She smiled and responded, "I am helping her prepare breakfast. I desire some normalcy in my life, something routine and commonplace such as working in the kitchen. Also, helping Mrs. Hudson is a way to repay her kindness to me."

"And her assistance in the kitchen is very much appreciated!" Mrs. Hudson chimed in.

After Holmes had left the kitchen, Violet said, "And now that he is gone from the room, I can say I welcome a respite from Mr. Holmes."

"I completely understand my dear!" Mrs. Hudson chuckled.

* * *

A half an hour later, Violet appeared in the sitting room with the breakfast tray in hand. She placed the tray on the table and paused to look out the window before taking a seat. To her surprise, no one was watching the house on this morning.

She sat down and poured a cup of tea for herself and Holmes. Watson had not come down from his room. Violet thought that was unusual for him because he was often in the sitting room before she came down from her bedroom in the morning.

"Mr. Holmes?"

He put down the newspaper he was reading. "Yes Miss Carroll?"

"Where is Dr. Watson? He is often here before I come down in the morning. Is he ill?"

"Nothing of the sort. He arrived back home shortly before you came into the sitting room. He was called out to attend to a very sick patient in the middle of the night. I am sure he is fast asleep by now." Holmes resumed reading the newspaper.

"Mr. Holmes?"

"Yes," he responded in an irritated tone.

"When I looked out the window, I observed no one watching this house as has been the custom every morning since I came here to live here. I wonder why."

The detective put the newspaper down. "It is possible the watcher has changed his tactics in trying to draw you out of this house."

"Why would he change tactics?"

"To pull on your sense of curiosity Miss Carroll. How long do you think you could stand merely wondering where he was or what he was going to do next?"

She reflected on his question. Her sense of curiosity was indeed strong. When she wanted to know something she endeavored mightily to find it out. Perhaps that was the source of all her troubles. Something she found out could be the very reason that she found herself thousands of miles away from her country, her home and only a fragment of memories concerning her past.

Another question came to mind. How and why was she cast upon the detective's doorstep? For what purpose?

When Violet returned from that distant place of reflection in her mind, she saw Holmes studying her intently. It startled her and she nearly dropped the cup of tea she was holding.

He reached out and took the cup from her hand and placed it on the table. "Where were you Miss Carroll?"

She sighed, reaching with one hand to brush her hair away from her face. Holmes resisted the impulse to do it for her. "Why Mr. Holmes, what do you mean? Where was I? If you still possess eyesight, it is patently obvious that I am sitting at the table with you, in the sitting room of 221B Baker Street."

"Come now, I did not ask you a philosophical question young woman. You had a very distant look on your face."

She leaned forward and looked intently into his gray eyes. "Sorry Mr. Holmes." She felt that she had told him a little lie by apologizing for what she had just said for she enjoyed ruffling his feathers. " I was suddenly struck by the realization that it was my sense of curiosity that brought me here. Wanting to know something, some secret is the cause for my being here. Why am I here so far from home and not…." She paused before she continued. "And not in a grave, the secret buried with me?"

"Indeed Miss Carroll, why would you be brought here? The answer to that question intrigues me. Another question arises; why were you "sent" to me? Shortly after you came, I received a note stating the hope that "my gift had arrived undamaged". It seemed odd and made no sense at the time."

"That is indeed odd. Am I the "gift" mentioned in the note? If so, why would anyone "send" me to you?"Violet was a puzzled as Holmes by this. "Now there are even more questions demanding answers. Who am I? What do I know and why am I here?" Then she asked a most sobering question. "Why am I still alive?"

* * *

Late in the afternoon Mrs. Hudson went to sweep off the front steps. She was unaware that Blue Eyes had followed her and was right behind her when she opened the door. The kitten flew out the open doorway and ran down the sidewalk. She shouted, "Blue Eyes, come back here this instant!"

Violet heard Mrs. Hudson yelling at the kitten and flew down the stairs that led from the sitting room to the front door. She was outside and down the street running after the kitten before Holmes could stop her. Passersby stopped to watch this foreign sounding young woman, her hair in wild disarray, running and calling "Blue Eyes!" at the top of her lungs. The scene became all the more interesting when they saw the detective and the elderly landlady chasing after the young woman.

Mrs. Hudson finally had to stop to catch her breath. Holmes continued pursuing Violet. He had gained speed in running after her and was on her heels. He could almost touch her. What happened next was unexpected by both of them.

In her haste to find Blue Eyes she paid no heed to what might be underfoot. The toe of Violet's right shoe caught on an uneven bit of pavement and she went face down with Holmes right on top of her. She turned her face to one side so she could breathe and hissed, "Get off of me!"

Holmes rolled off of her. He stood up, straightened his jacket and offered her his hand. She took it and stood up. He glared at her and whispered, "A lot of bother for a little cat. Running down the street like children chasing each other. Come back to the house with me!"

"I will come back when we have found Blue Eyes and not until then." Her arms were crossed and she would not budge from the spot where she stood. "Mr. Holmes, you have gone to a lot of bother in helping me since I came to your house. Why shouldn't I bother with finding a little cat?"

She had bested him. He would not argue with her standing on the sidewalk in front of a growing crowd on onlookers. "Alright Miss Carroll, we will go look for the cat together."

While Holmes and Violet were standing eye to eye on the sidewalk, someone else had found the kitten and his intentions toward it were not of a benevolent nature.

**Holmes and Violet go from questions one minute to running after a kitten the next. Life is that way; alternating from being sometimes serious and other times humorous or frightening.**

**Who has gotten hold of Blue Eyes? Hopefully the kitten will be found by Holmes and Violet before anything unfortunate happens.**

**Thanks for reading and following this story! **


	29. Chapter 29

**A STRANGER AT THE DOOR- CHAPTER 29- THE COST**

Daniel was a man who never let an opportunity pass by without seizing it. When he saw Violet and Holmes in pursuit of the kitten, he knew he had a chance to get his hands on the young woman once more. This time he was determined that she would not get away from him.

He grabbed Blue Eyes and ducked in an alley waiting for Violet and Holmes to pass by.

The search for the kitten was both comic and frantic. Every time Violet stopped to look down a darkened alleyway, Holmes would bump into her because he was literally on her heels.

Finally she had enough of him following her so closely. "Mr. Holmes, would you please stay a few feet behind me? I do not want a repeat performance of what happened on the sidewalk a few minutes ago. I can only imagine what sort of stories are circulating about it already."

The detective backed away a few inches to comply with her request. "Is this better?" he huffed.

"Yes, much better. Now let's move on." She took off walking rapidly, managing to weave her way around the people on the crowded sidewalk. Not looking back, she was unaware that Holmes was no longer closely following her. A cluster of young boys fighting in the middle of the sidewalk blocked his way and he lost sight of her.

* * *

Violet stopped periodically to ask people if they had seen the kitten. Most of them were busy and barely responded to her question. A few kind souls told her "no". She continued on, determined to find Blue Eyes.

The sound of pitiful mewing caught her attention. She looked around to see where the sound was coming from and stopped in front of yet another darkened alleyway. Although the memory of what had happened to her the previous time she had stepped into an alley, she entered it anyway. She was desperate to find Blue Eyes. She had saved the kitten from destruction once and would do it again.

The deeper down the alley Violent went, the louder the mewing became. She must be on the right path. Suddenly a little ball of gray fur limped toward her. It was Blue Eyes! Her joy at finding the kitten blinded her to the other creature approaching, Daniel; the dark haired man who had tried to harm her before. He was the man in her dream that had chased her through the woods. The one she slashed on the face with a knife to defend herself and get away from.

Violet was kneeling on the ground murmuring comforting words and petting the kitten. As she scooped Blue Eyes into her arms, she noticed a shadow of a man approaching her. When she looked up and saw it was Daniel, fear overtook her and she froze in place. He grabbed her arms so hard and jerked her off the ground that she could not help but drop Blue Eyes. The kitten scampered away down the alley and out to the sidewalk.

As terrified as Violet was, she was thankful that the kitten had gotten away from Daniel. Daniel, who for reasons not quite clear to her, personified evil. She struggled to remember anything more about the man, anything that could at the very least help her get away from him.

He pulled her deeper into the alley until he was at a dead end. "Now that I have you again, you stupid gal, I'm going to finish you off once and for all. All the secrets you know are going to the grave with you. But first, I want you to suffer the way I did when you cut my face. "Daniel made a tiny cut on her right cheek. She whimpered and struggled to get free from his grasp. Blood trickled from the wound down her cheek and onto her neck.

"No, no!" he hissed in her ear. "Don't tempt me to slit your throat now. You'll deprive me of the pleasure of hearing you beg for your life and I do not like being deprived." He laughed at his next thought. "Maybe before I dispatch you for good, I'll have your body for my pleasure." His fingers tore at the buttons on the bodice of her dress, exposing the corset and chemise underneath. She struggled against him once more and he slapped her on the mouth so hard that her lower lip burst open.

"Daniel Rutledge what do you want from me?" she whimpered, not realizing she had finally remembered his full name.

"I want you to pay Roni. Pay for what happened to Henry." He slapped her again, this time on her left cheek.

Violet was terrified, in great pain and confused. "What happened to Henry? Tell me, I don't remember."

"Because of you, he gave away our secret!" He reached out to strike her again, but gave her another nip on her right cheek with the knife.

Violet tried not to whimper or cry out again, but she could not stop herself. "What secret?" she asked him, blood oozing from her lip with every word she spoke.

"Don't play stupid with me!" He reached out to strike her again, but instead threw her on the ground. Her head hit the ground with such force that she almost passed out. When Daniel reached under her skirt and started pulling down her underpants, she wished she had passed out because she knew what he was about to do to her. She was afraid to beg him to stop knowing it would only bring more slaps and cuts to her face.

A thought came to her mind. She relaxed under his weight, letting him think he was about to have his way with her. Then she slowly pulled up her right leg. Knowing she had nothing to lose in the attempt, Violet kneed him hard in the groin. He rolled off of her cursing, curled up in a ball of pain. She edged away from him and sat up. He grabbed for her and caught the hem of her skirt, pulling on it until it had almost completely ripped away from the bodice. She managed to get free and began to run down the alley toward the sidewalk and daylight. He finally was able to get up and start chasing her.

Violet didn't look back to see if he was gaining on her, she kept running until she ran into someone with such force that it knocked the breath out of her. Arms closed around her and she began to struggle against them. "Let me go! For the love of God, let me go!"

"You are safe, you are safe." The words were said with such tenderness, that she hardly believed that they came from the lips of Sherlock Holmes. Violet relaxed and let her body sag against him. When he saw her bloodied face and the state of her clothes, he picked her up and ran, only stopping long enough to tell a police constable to search the alley that Violet had emerged from.

* * *

Mrs. Hudson and Watson were waiting at the front door of 221B when Holmes rushed in carrying Violet up the stairs to the sitting room. One sight of the state she was in was enough to send Watson off to get his medical bag and Mrs. Hudson running for hot water and towels.

Holmes gently laid Violet down on the settee. He had not noticed the state of her dress until then. He pulled off his coat and covered her up quickly.

Watson entered the sitting room with his medical bag in hand. He removed Holmes' coat and handed it to him. "I cannot attend to her injuries with this thing on her. If you are uncomfortable by her state of undress, I suggest you leave the room."

"Or at the very least Mr. Holmes, remove yourself to the other side of the room," Mrs. Hudson added as she entered the sitting room with a bowl of hot water and several towels.

The detective went and stood in front of the fireplace. He could hear what was happening, but could not see it. Although Watson and Mrs. Hudson were gently cleaning Violet's wounds, she couldn't help but whimper and cry out periodically. Holmes clutched the mantle at every sound she made.

Once she was cleaned off, the doctor went to work stitching up the two cuts to Violet's cheek. He had given her a sedative before he started, but it only dulled the pain of the needle piercing her skin. She cried out so loudly that Holmes was forced to go outside until the doctor was finished. Her suffering had touched him unlike anything he had felt before.

* * *

When Mrs. Hudson called Holmes back inside, Violet was asleep. She was covered with a blanket from his bed. "Watson," he whispered. He hesitated to ask the question that was on his mind.

"What is it Holmes? I am your friend, you can ask me anything."

"The extent of her injuries; are they confined only to her face? You saw the state of her clothing, did you not?"

Watson put his hand on his friend's shoulder. He finally understood what Holmes was trying to ask him. "They are not of more intimate nature. I asked her and she assured me that the man did not get that far in his assault on her."

Holmes could not contain his relief. Watson saw it in his eyes.

"Holmes? Where is the kitten?"

"Here, Watson." The detective pulled the sleeping Blue Eyes out of his vest pocket. "She said she would not abandon the kitten and she kept her word at the cost of nearly losing her life."

**Violet said she wouldn't abandon Blue Eyes. She found the kitten, but it nearly cost her life in the process. **

**Poor Holmes! He will probably even more protective of Violet than before and she will probably resent it.**

**Thank you for reading this story! I appreciate your support! **


	30. Chapter 30

**A STRANGER AT THE DOOR- CHAPTER 30- THE CONSTABLE**

Violet slept a few hours before the effects of the medication Watson had given her wore off. She awoke to throbbing pain where the doctor had stitched up the cuts that Daniel had made on her face. She sat up without realizing that the blanket that had been covering her had slipped away to expose her torn dress and undergarments. However, Holmes realized it and cleared his throat loudly to get her attention. Violet quickly pulled the blanket back over herself and made an attempt to stand up without success. She collapsed back on to the settee and groaned, "I need Mrs. Hudson's assistance. I want to change clothes so as not to cause further embarrassment to myself or anyone else."

Watson called for the landlady and she came quickly to assist Violet. Once upstairs with the young woman, she gently helped Violet out of the torn dress.

When Violet saw the state of the dress, she struggled not to cry. Holding back tears, she asked Mrs. Hudson, "Do you think it can be repaired enough to be wearable again? The dress is new and today was the first time I had worn it. It seems I have a talent for ruining my clothes. Mr. Holmes will not be happy about that."

Mrs. Hudson shook her head. "Violet, do not trouble yourself about that. He would not be concerned that the dress is torn. He is more concerned about your safety and welfare. I have never seen him as worried about anyone as he was about you today. He would never admit it, but I can tell he has grown quite fond of you." She responded to Mrs. Hudson's statement with a raised eyebrow and a slight smile.

With Mrs. Hudson's assistance, Violet put on her other dress, combed her hair and tied it back with a ribbon.

"Mrs. Hudson, please hand me the mirror." The landlady hesitated, then handed Violet the mirror. When Violet saw her swollen, bruised and cut face she started to cry. "I look hideous! "

Mrs. Hudson held her close and let her cry while she patted Violet's back and whispered, "It will heal with time my dear. You will be alright."

Violet clung to her and realized that it was the first time in many years that she had been held in a motherly embrace. She could not even remember what her own mother looked like. "Mrs. Hudson may I call you "aunt"? I have no memories of my mother or any other female relative. Since I am supposed to be a niece visiting from America, do you think it would be appropriate?"

Mrs. Hudson let go of Violet and smiled. There was joy shining in her eyes. "Yes Violet, I would like that very much." The two women returned to the sitting room arm in arm.

A young police constable with thick, flaming red hair and mustache to match was talking to Holmes and Watson when the two women entered the room. Holmes stood up and nodded towards Violet. "Ah, here is Miss Carroll, Mrs. Hudson's niece from America. She was attacked by the man you pursued down the alley."

When the young man turned and saw Violet, he tried to hide his shock at the sight of the injuries she had received at the hands of her attacker. She saw the expression on his face and turned away from him, clinging to Mrs. Hudson's arm.

The constable regained his composure and gently said, "Miss Carroll, in order to find the man who attacked you, the police will need a detailed description. Are you able to provide that information?"

"Yes, Constable…?" she answered.

"Constable Brown. Andrew Brown." He pulled out a notebook from a pocket, ready to write down what Violet told him.

"Constable Brown, I can give you the description you seek. The man's name is Daniel Rutledge. He is short, thin and wiry with dark hair and eyes. He is from the same place I am from. You can tell by his accent. And I will also tell you this; he has tried to kill me before. Not here in London, but in my own country." Violet raked her fingers through her hair and sighed. "That is all I can remember about him at the moment."

When he finished writing, he said, "Thank you Miss Carroll. I will call on you and Mr. Holmes when the man is apprehended. " He looked at her and smiled. She noticed his sky blues eye and spattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose and returned his smile with one of her own, although it was difficult to do with swollen lips.

Holmes stood up and quickly ushered the constable to the open doorway of the sitting room. "Thank you Constable. Good bye."

Violet could not help but notice Holmes' haste in seeing the young man out of the sitting room and wondered why he seemed to be so eager to bid rid of him.

"Oh Mr. Holmes, Constable Brown seems confident in the police's ability to find and capture Daniel Rutledge. I do not remember a lot about him, but of one thing I am sure; he's a slippery as an eel. If he were not that way, he would have been in prison or dead long ago. I cannot explain why I feel that way about him; possibly from a prior experience I cannot fully remember. Until he is caught, I cannot be at ease."

The detective looked at Violet, his eyes showing what she was feeling; a great anxiety. "Neither can I, Miss Carroll."

* * *

The following morning, as was her habit, Violet stopped to look out the sitting room window before she sat down at the table to eat breakfast. An unexpected sight caused her to smile. Constable Brown passed by 221B, looked up at her and waved. She returned his greeting with a smile and slight wave of her hand.

"Who is down there and why are you waving at them?" Holmes was standing behind her. She jumped like a small child caught doing something naughty. Violet turned to face himand stammered, "Constable Brown."

The detective huffed and told her, "Come sit down and eat your breakfast before it grows cold."

Violet suspected that Holmes' wanting her away from the window had nothing to do with her breakfast growing cold. What on earth was wrong with her giving the constable a friendly wave?

Watson, however, knew his friend much better than Violet. He was convinced that Holmes was experiencing jealousy for the first time in his life. The detective was jealous of the young police constable paying attention to Violet. He wondered how Holmes would act when Constable Brown called at 221B again.

As Andrew Brown proceeded down Baker Street, he thought about the young woman. Although her face was injured with cuts and a swollen lip, he thought she was pretty and wondered what she looked like before she had been attacked. Her slow, drawling accent when she spoke was unlike anything he had ever heard and he found it fascinating. He smiled as his imagination made a picture in his mind of Violet walking arm in arm with him laughing and talking.

**It is possible for Sherlock Holmes to be jealous? Does he have a rival in the person of Constable Andrew Brown? **

**Thank you Dear Readers for your continued support! My humble apologies for the delay in posting this chapter.**


	31. Chapter 31

**A STRANGER AT THE DOOR- CHAPTER 31- A SECRET DELIGHT**

Much to Holmes' dismay, Blue Eyes had formed an attachment to him and followed him everywhere. The detective could hardly take a step without the kitten being at his heels. Several times he had accidentally stepped on Blue Eyes' tail and was rewarded with a swat of a paw or scratches on his ankles. No matter how many times he called Mrs. Hudson to take Blues Eyes away, the kitten always found its way back to him. He finally gave up and put the feline in his coat pocket. At least the creature would no longer be underfoot.

It was the cause of great amusement for Watson, Mrs. Hudson and Violet to see Holmes with this most unlikely companion, a small gray kitten with enormous blue eyes. The three of them were wise enough not to tease him about it.

For Holmes, it was worth the blow to his dignity to carry Blue Eyes around in his pocket, for it made Violet smile when she saw the tall detective and the tiny feline together. Anything that would give her a little joy after the ordeal she had just been through was acceptable to him, although he would never admit it to anyone.

However, the attentions of Constable Andrew Brown toward Violet were another matter entirely. The young man called on her a few days after he had interviewed her concerning her attacker, Daniel Rutledge.

Constable Brown waited nervously outside the sitting room door while Mrs. Hudson announced his arrival. He could not help but hear Holmes ask her, "What does the Constable want now? Has Daniel Rutledge been apprehended?" It was not the question, so much as the tone of the detective's voice that made the young man anxious.

"He did not say Mr. Holmes. You will have to ask him yourself," she replied, trying to hide her amusement at her tenant's attitude toward the young man.

"Well show him in Mrs. Hudson."

She turned to Constable Brown and whispered, "Mr. Holmes will see you now. Do not let him intimidate you." She smiled at him, hoping it would help put him at ease.

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson."

The young man entered the room, hoping that Violet would be there. When he saw her, he smiled. She was sitting at the table mending what looked like a gray dress. She looked up and returned his smile. The swelling of her lips had gone down considerably and he was glad to see it.

"Well Constable, do you have any news for us. Has Daniel Rutledge been apprehended?" Holmes asked rather forcefully and a little louder than was necessary.

This startled the young policeman, who was still looking at Violet. "No…no Mr. Holmes, he has not," he stammered. "I came to see how Miss Carroll was recovering from the injuries she received at the hands of that ruffian."

"Constable Brown, I was not aware that the police force made a practice of checking on the recovery of victims of assault," the tone of Holmes' voice bordering on rudeness.

"Perhaps the constable was concerned because I am a visitor to London?" Violet asked, looking at the young man hoping to make him feel at ease in the presence of Sherlock Holmes.

The young man smiled. "Yes miss, you are correct. I wanted to make sure you were alright seeing as you are a visitor here."

"That is most kind of you Constable Brown," Violet responded. She was a loss to say anything else to ease the awkwardness of the situation.

Out of the corner of his eye, Andrew Brown noticed Holmes fussing with something in his vest pocket and could not help but be curious as to what was vexing the detective so. It was amusing and he tried hard not to smile at what was happening. Violet saw what had caught the constable's attention and had to hide a smile behind her hand.

Andrew wanted so much to be able to speak to Violet in private, but it was not going to happen, at least not on this occasion. Especially since he was about to burst out laughing if he did not leave 221B immediately. He stayed composed and said, "Mr. Holmes, I shall call again if there are further developments in the case."

Holmes grunted and waved the young man out of the sitting room. Violet said a muffled "good bye" to the constable as he walked away. She was trying hard not to strangle on the laughter she was holding in. Almost instantly, her mending became of supreme importance to her. It was the only way she could contain herself.

Violet felt Holmes' presence behind her. He moved so silently that she only knew he was standing over by the shadow he cast over the table. Looking up at him, she asked, "What is it Mr. Holmes? Are you appraising my needlework? "She caught him off guard. He was merely watching her. Why she held such fascination for him, he had no idea.

"There appears to be so much damage to the dress. It would be much easier to replace it than repair it. Would you like a replacement?" he asked her.

The thought passed through Violet's mind that it was extravagant to replace an item that could be repaired. Where did that thought come from? There must have been a time in her life where there was no money for extras. It was make do with what one had. "No, thank you. Mr. Holmes, I believe the dress can be repaired. It will take time and patience."

When Violet uttered the word "patience", it was Holmes' turn to smile. The young women had many qualities, but patience was not one of them. Never the less, he did not contradict her. Also, he found it admirable that she was mindful of not incurring an unnecessary expense though he secretly delighted in providing her with the things she needed. If she did not want a new dress, he would provide her with something to make her repair job easier.

Holmes called out "Mrs. Hudson" so loudly that it startled Violet and she accidentally stabbed herself with the needle she was using to mend the dress. She put the injured finger in her mouth for a second, then pulled it out and shook it at him. "Mr. Holmes! Why must you yell for Mrs. Hudson? Could you not go downstairs to speak to her?"

The detective looked at her as if she had suggested a novel idea. "I believe I shall." He quickly ran down stairs was greeted by a shriek of surprise by Mrs. Hudson when she saw him. In all the time he had resided at 221B Baker Street, Sherlock Holmes had never ventured down to her quarters. He could move both quickly and quietly and was standing over her as she was preparing vegetables to put in a soup with a very large kitchen knife. She turned with knife in hand to face him. "Mr. Holmes, what is the meaning of this?"

She noticed that her tenant backed away from her several inches at the sight of the knife she was holding and smiled slightly. He swallowed quickly and proceeded to tell her the reason for his visit to her domain. "Mrs. Hudson, I would like to purchase a sewing machine for Miss Carroll and need your assistance in its selection."

Mrs. Hudson put down the knife and asked him, "Have you asked her what features she desires in a sewing machine?"

He was at a loss for words and she realized that he was charting new territory in purchasing a gift for the young woman. "Mr. Holmes, do you wish that the sewing machine be a surprise for Violet?"

He looked down at his hands and then back at her. "Yes Mrs. Hudson that is it. I want the sewing machine to be surprise for Miss Carroll."

"Very well," she said as she threw the cut up vegetables in the stockpot and placed it on the back burner of the stove. "I shall be ready to go shopping with you in a few minutes." She shook her head. Just when she thought she understood Sherlock Holmes, he would do something out of the ordinary. He had done many out of the ordinary things since Violet Carroll had come to live at 221B Baker Street.

**Kind Reader, I realize there was very little mystery in this chapter concerning Violet. The mystery is why Sherlock Holmes is doing things out of the ordinary. The answer to that question is plain to everyone but Sherlock Holmes; he had grown fond of Miss Violet Carroll.**

**Thank you for reading and supporting this story! I will try to post the next chapter as soon as possible.**


	32. Chapter 32

**A STRANGER AT THE DOOR- CHAPTER 32- LOOSE ENDS**

James Carlisle exploded at Daniel Rutledge. "How could you let Roni elude you three times? You always get your prey?" He jabbed his finger in Rutledge's chest." You're losing your touch, Danny Boy." Carlisle lit his cigar, shook out the match and threw on the carpet of his hotel room.

As Rutledge gave his excuse he knew that James would consider it an inadequate one. "Mr. Carlisle, no one else has been under the protection of Sherlock Holmes."

"You should have gotten rid of her long before now! Holmes complicates matters." He pointed the cigar at Daniel. "That little half-sister of mine has been the bane of my existence since the day she was born. Why didn't she die along with her mother in childbirth?"

"I don't know sir."

"I don't know, sir. Is that all you can say?" James leapt up from his chair and grabbed Daniel Rutledge by the collar. "This I know. If you don't get rid of her and soon, you're a dead man."

* * *

Violet stood at the sitting room window and watched Holmes and Mrs. Hudson depart 221b in a cab. "Dr. Watson, did Mr. Holmes tell you where he and Mrs. Hudson were going?"

The doctor joined her at the window. "Violet, I do not know. Holmes said nothing to me about going anywhere this morning. It must have been a sudden decision. This is curious."

While the two of them stood at the window watching the scene in the street below, Blue Eyes was having a merry time playing with the thread Violet left on the table with the dress she was mending. The kitten batted around the spool of cotton thread like it was prey until it rolled off the table and onto the floor. Neither Violet nor Watson was mindful of the feline antics going on by their feet.

As usual, Violet's hair had a mind of its own and was wild and unruly. It covered her injured cheek and she seemed content for it to stay that way. Only when Holmes was present, did she make any effort to tame her tresses for their unruliness troubled him greatly and she noticed that he would attempt to straighten it if she did not intervene. Watson turned to her and said, "Violet, I would like to examine the cuts on your face to see how they are healing. It is rather difficult to see them when your hair is covering them."

She started to laugh, which puzzled Watson, for he did not know the source of her amusement. "Oh, Doctor Watson, I am sorry. It's just that Mr. Holmes is not here to make sure my hair is straight and in order. I do believe no other woman has her hair fussed over so."

He smiled. "You may be right, but do not let Holmes hear you say that. Now as to your cheek, may I please see how your wounds are healing?"

"Why of course." Violet sat back down at the table and pushed away the hair from her injured cheek. Watson saw that the swelling and redness were greatly reduced and he was glad about it. However, he knew that she would have two scars on her cheek that might fade over time, but never completely go away. It concerned him that she might become upset over this and he said nothing as he examined her face.

"Doctor, do you think the scars will be bad?" Violet looked up at him earnestly and he realized she desired an honest answer.

Watson sat down beside her and took her hand. "I cannot be sure Violet until the wounds heal. Be hopeful and remember that those scars mean you are still alive."

"I will try. I suppose it could be much worse."

"Yes indeed," the doctor whispered in a husky voice. He was distressed at the thought that Violet could have been killed. Now that she lived at 221b with the doctor and Holmes, he could not imagine life without her. "We have much to be thankful for."

* * *

Nothing would do for Holmes except the most expensive sewing machine he could find. His mind was fixed upon it and Mrs. Hudson was hard pressed to talk him out of the purchase. "Mr. Holmes, it is not necessary to purchase that machine." She nodded at the display. It was certainly a grand sewing machine, but there were other less expensive models that would have suited Violet's needs. Also, the landlady felt that since the young woman had a practical turn of mind, she would not want so much money to be spent on one. "Have you considered any other ones?"

"No, Mrs. Hudson. I want to purchase this one for Miss Carroll." He pointed emphatically at his choice. The detective was adamant and Mrs. Hudson made no further protest. The purchase was made and delivery of the sewing machine to 221b Baker Street was set for the following day.

When they left the shop, Holmes was in a good mood. He could hardly wait to see Violet's face when the sewing machine was delivered the next day. He wondered why he was so concerned with what her reaction would be to the machine. Was this a gift? He had never given a gift to a young woman. Yes, he had purchased clothing and shoes for her, but those were absolute necessities. The sewing machine was not a necessity but he thought it would make her work in mending her dress easier and for some reason that was important to him. He shook his head to dismiss those thoughts. She had need of it and he bought it for her. It was a simple as that.

* * *

Violet was overcome with curiosity to know where Holmes and Mrs. Hudson had gone that morning. The sound of the front door opening brought her to her feet and down the stairs that led from the sitting room to the entry way in an instant. She eagerly greeted them with the hope that all would be explained to her, but no details were forthcoming from the detective or his landlady. Mrs. Hudson went straight away to her kitchen and Holmes to the sitting room with Violet on his heels.

When he entered the sitting room, he stopped suddenly and Violet almost collided with his back. He turned to her and said, "What is this?" He was pointing at a gray mass of fur, rolling and mewing under the table.

She turned to see Blue Eyes, wrapped in her sewing thread like a little feline mummy. Violet knelt down and picked up the kitten. "Oh, you wicked thing! What will I do for thread now?"

Holmes endeavored to hide his amusement as he told her, "Unwrap the cat and wind the thread back on the spool." He bent down, picked up the empty spool and handed it to her.

She looked at the detective, then at the cat and the empty spool. "And pray tell how am I to do this? It will take more than two hands."

"Give me the cat. I will hold it while you remove the thread," Holmes ordered.

Violet handed over Blue Eyes to him and started the tedious process of removing the thread from its little body. These ministrations were greeted with hisses and growls from the kitten. It became quite evident that this was not going to be an easy or quick process. After several nips by needle sharp little teeth, Holmes had had enough. He handed the creature to her and took a pair of scissors from his desk drawer.

"Hold the kitten still and I will cut off the thread." Violet held a very unhappy Blue Eyes while he cut away the thread that bound it. In a few minutes, the task was completed and she put the kitten on the floor. It scampered away and hid under the settee, growling at the memory of the indignity done to it.

Violet knelt down and proceeded to pick up the gray thread that littered the floor of the sitting room. Holmes watched her for a few minutes and saw that it would take her quite a while to clean up the mess by herself. Without a word he knelt down beside her and started picking up thread.

Mrs. Hudson entered the room to see of Holmes and Violet crawling around on the floor. She had seen the detective do many strange things since she had known him but this was extraordinary. After a minute of watching the two of them, she cleared her throat to get their attention.

Both Violet and Holmes looked up to see her standing there with the luncheon tray in her hands. Holmes stood up first. The legs of his pants were covered in tiny pieces of thread and it had managed to get in his hair as well. He reached down and helped Violet stand up. She also had thread in her hair and on her clothes.

At the same time, they reached out and pulled thread from each other's hair. Violet grinned at him. He tried hard not to smile, but gave in and started to laugh. It was a hearty laugh and it delighted the young woman to hear it for she realized that he was not angry with her for what had happened with Blue Eyes.

A puzzled Mrs. Hudson watched them for a few moments and then joined them in their laughter although she was unsure as to its cause. When the laughter died down, she held put the tray on the table and said with all the dignity she could summon, "Luncheon is served." She left them, shaking her head and laughing softly as she descended the stairs that led to her kitchen.

Violet removed the dress from the table and placed it on the settee. As they sat down at the table, she asked, "Well now Blue Eyes has been unbound, what am I going to do for thread to mend my dress?"

Holmes smiled and said, "Tomorrow will be soon enough to replace the thread. Put it out of your mind for today." He had made sure when he purchased the sewing machine that all the necessary supplies, such as needles and thread, were included with it.

Violet started to protest, but let it go and simply responded with a disappointed, "Very well Mr. Holmes." The dress that needed so much work to make wearable again would have to wait another day.

* * *

Mr. Peterson of Peterson and Company, looked over his list of scheduled deliveries for the following day and realized he had far too many for his regular delivery men to make in a timely fashion. He would have to hire a couple of day laborers to augment his workforce in order for all his customers to get their orders on time. He recalled seeing two foreign looking men hanging around his shop earlier that day. Perhaps he could hire them to do the work. Their first delivery would be to S. Holmes, 221 B Baker Street.

**Dear Readers, I apologize for taking so long to post this chapter. Your patience and support is greatly appreciated by this writer!**


	33. Chapter 33

**A STRANGER AT THE DOOR- CHAPTER 33- SURPRISE!**

At breakfast the next morning, Holmes was in an exceptionally good mood. He hummed as he perused the morning newspapers. However, his mood swiftly changed when Mrs. Hudson announced that Constable Brown was there to see him. The detective threw his newspaper on the floor and huffed, "What does the man want?"

She shrugged. "He didn't tell me Mr. Holmes. He just said he needed to see you right away."

"Very well, send him in."

Andrew Brown nervously entered the sitting room hoping to catch a glimpse of Violet before he spoke to the detective. She was not there and he found it difficult to hide his disappointment.

"Well Constable, what brings you here this morning?" The tone of Holmes voice was brusque and startled the young man so much that he stammered when he answered.

"Ah…uh, Inspector Lestrade asked that you and Dr. Watson come to Scotland Yard straight away." The Constable ran a finger around his collar. Suddenly it felt two sizes too small.

"Did the Inspector say what the matter was?" Holmes asked him.

"No sir, he did not. He just said he needed you to come as soon as possible."

The detective was not happy. He was concerned that he might be absent from the house when the sewing machine was delivered and he would miss seeing Violet's reaction to the surprise. Besides, of all mornings, Watson had yet to make an appearance in the sitting room for breakfast. Why was the man still sleeping? And for that matter, where was the young woman? She had not come down to breakfast either.

He did not hide his annoyance when he told Constable Brown, "Tell the Inspector that Watson and I will be there shortly."

"Of course Mr. Holmes." The Constable lost no time leaving the sitting room. He was sure that the man did not like him and could not fathom what the reason for that dislike might be.

* * *

Once the young man was gone, Holmes went up to Watson's room. The doctor was there and still sound asleep. For a moment Holmes pondered his friend's tardiness in getting up that morning. Was he ill or had a patient summoned him in the middle of the night? Nevertheless, they were needed at Scotland Yard. The detective gently shook Watson's arm and said, "Time to get up old man. Our presence has been requested at the Yard by Inspector Lestrade."

Watson looked up at Holmes with bleary eyes. He yawned and then asked, "Why?"

"He sent Constable Brown with a message that we were needed. No details were given."

Watson sat up, clutching the edge of the bed. He yawned again and said, "Give me a few minutes and I will come down for breakfast. Then we can go see the Inspector."

Holmes' patience was nonexistent at that moment. He wanted to go see Lestrade and return to Baker Street as soon as possible to be there when the sewing machine was delivered. "No my friend, you will get up now and dress. Alas, there is no time to dawdle over breakfast."

Watson sighed, knowing there was no use in arguing with Holmes. "Very well. Would it be possible for me to at least inhale a bit of coffee or tea before we go?"

"I suppose so, if you must." Holmes immediately left Watson's room to see why Violet was not awake yet. He wanted to see her before he left the house.

As he was ascending the stairs to her tiny room, she was coming down. To his surprise, she was fully awake and dressed for the day. Somehow she had managed to pin her wild mane of hair into submission. He could fully see her face and could not help but notice the cuts on her cheek. He made an effort to keep his expression neutral. It made him unhappy to see them on her pleasant looking face. The words that came out of his mouth then were very unusual for him. "Miss Carroll, you look very nice today, especially your hair."

Violet was taken aback at his complement. It took her a few moments to respond. Finally she said, Thank you Mr. Holmes." He stood there looking at her and she wondered if he was going to move so she could continue down the stairs to the sitting room. "Please excuse me Mr. Holmes. I was on my way to the sitting room."

He nodded and moved aside. As Violet walked down the stairs she wondered what was wrong with the man. She knew he had a fascination with her hair, but his behavior in this instance was beyond that.

Once in the sitting room, she poured a cup of coffee and made her daily visit to the window before she sat down at the table. Violet took a piece of toast and nibbled on it. It was cold of course because she was late for breakfast, having spent so much time on her hair. In the future, she would either have to get up earlier or abandon any attempt at trying to pin up her hair although Holmes seemed to be appreciative of her effort that morning.

No one else was in the room, so she spoke her thoughts out loud. "That's most curious. Why on earth should I care if Mr. Holmes complements me on my appearance? Is that something women desire to hear from men? "She shook her head and sighed, "I cannot remember."

Holmes and Watson's hurried entrance into the sitting room interrupted her thoughts. She looked up to see the impatient detective with his friend following him. It was quite evident that the doctor had dressed in great haste. His hair was uncombed, his tie was askew and his coat was buttoned crookedly.

"Miss Carroll, Dr. Watson and I have been called to Scotland Yard. I do not intend to be gone for very long." A sly smile briefly flashed across his face in contemplation of the delivery of the sewing machine. He so looked forward to seeing her surprise when it arrived. As quickly as the smile had appeared, it disappeared and he told her, "Do not under any circumstances leave this house. You understand?"

She nodded. "Yes Mr. Holmes, I understand perfectly. I have no intention of going anywhere. Besides, Mrs. Hudson could use my assistance in her daily chores."

* * *

When the two men had left Baker Street, Violet went down to the kitchen to see how she could be of use to Mrs. Hudson.

"Well Mrs. Hudson, Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson have departed for Scotland Yard. I've come down to offer you a hand in your work today."

The landlady smiled and told her, "I am glad to have your help." She pointed at two piles of shirts lying on the kitchen table. "There is a lot of mending to do."

Violet surveyed the contents of the table and laughed, "Yes indeed. I suppose most of these shirts belong to Mr. Holmes."

"Yes they are, but a few of them belong to the doctor." Mrs. Hudson went to her pantry, retrieved a sewing basket and handed it to Violet.

Once seated at the table, Violet threaded a needle and picked up the shirt on the top of the pile. In her examination of it she discovered one torn shirt sleeve, several missing button and a rip in the back. She looked at the initials monogrammed inside the collar- _SH. _"Oh my! Are Mr. Holmes' shirts always like this?"

Mrs. Hudson rolled her eyes and answered, "Yes, they appear to be the shirts of a rough and tumble schoolboy, not a grown man."

Violet laughed and picked up a shirt from the much smaller second pile. Only a button or two was missing from each shirt. "These must belong to Dr. Watson."

The landlady smiled and said, "Yes. He is much kinder to his clothing than Mr. Holmes."

Violet and Mrs. Hudson spent a pleasant couple of hours mending shirts, drinking tea and conversing. As the last stitch was completed on the last shirt to be mended, someone knocked on the back door.

"Mrs. Hudson, are you expecting someone?" Violet asked.

The landlady answered with a half-truth. "No, I'm not expecting anyone to be coming to the back door." She got up from the table and went to the door. She opened it just wide enough to see two men standing there with a large crate. One of the men was short, dark haired and very unpleasant looking. The other one was tall, blond headed with a luxuriant mustache to match. He looked a little less disreputable than the first man.

The short man said, "We got a delivery for a…" He pulled a piece of paper from his coat pocket. "Yes, a delivery for a Mr. Sherlock Holmes."

Violet froze where she was sitting. She knew that voice. The drawling Southern accent gave him away. It was Daniel Rutledge. Under no circumstances should Mrs. Hudson let the man in! How could she stop the landlady without Daniel knowing she was in the kitchen?

At the risk of undoing several hours of mending, Violet swept all the shirts, thread, needles and scissors onto the floor making as much noise as possible. Then she made a few passable meowing sounds.

Fortunately, Mrs. Hudson caught on to Violet's subterfuge. She turned and yelled, "Blue Eyes, you wicked creature! What have you done to my mending?" Then she quickly locked the door and ran to the table to find Violet hiding under it. "My dear, what are you doing there?"

Violet grabbed her arm and whispered, "Mrs. Hudson, stay here with me. Do not go back to the door for any reason. Those two men know me and will stop at nothing to get in."

After a few minutes, it grew quiet outside and it seemed that the men had left. Both Violet and Mrs. Hudson crawled out from under the table. The landlady cautiously made her way to look out the window. The two men were no longer there. She sighed with relief and told the young woman, "They're gone now."

When the two women knelt down started picking up the mess that Violet had made, they were so intent on the task that neither one of them heard the front door open nor footsteps on the stairs that descended down to the kitchen. The two men burst into the kitchen, taking both women by surprise.

James, the blond man, jerked Violet off the floor by her hair. Her carefully done work to pin it up was undone in a second. Despite the gravity of the situation, that made her madder than being manhandled by him. She stomped down on his foot and yelled, "How dare you! I spent great effort this morning to put my hair up and you undo it in a trice!"

He let go of her and cursed loudly. He slapped her on her injured cheek and the pain from the blow made her wince and stumble backwards. Only then did she see that Daniel had a knife at Mrs. Hudson's throat. A trivial thing like James messing up her hair went out of Violet's head. She knew what Daniel was capable of; cold blooded murder.

"Daniel, please let Mrs. Hudson go. She has nothing to do with you. It's me you want. Please leave her alone," Violet pleaded.

When he finally took the knife away from Mrs. Hudson's throat, Violet let out a very audible sigh of relief and said, "Thank you. Now tell me what you want."

James gave the answer. "We want you to come with us and tell us what you know."

Violet frantically searched her brain, trying to fathom what he meant. "I do not know what you are talking about."

He grabbed the front of her dress and pulled her so close that their noses were touching. "Don't play stupid with me little sister!"

She looked into his cold, piercing blue eyes and shuddered. This evil man was her brother! "Look, James, I honestly remember very little of my life before I came to live here. If I knew what you were talking about, I would surely tell you."

"So all you know about me is my name?" he asked skeptically.

"Yes, all I know is that your name is James Carlisle and that the other man is Daniel Rutledge. I had no idea you were my brother until now."

He let go of her and laughed, "Oh really? You loved to play act when you were a little girl. How do I know you're not doing that now?"

Daniel Rutledge had had enough of this "touching" scene between brother and sister. "Aw, come on Jimmy, quit playin' around. " He grabbed Mrs. Hudson again and put a choke hold on her. The more she struggled against him, the stronger his grip.

Violet knew that he would have no compunction in killing Mrs. Hudson. "Alright Daniel, I will tell you and Jimmy what you want to know, just let her go." At that moment, Violet would have lied to an angel to save her friend.

James glanced at Daniel and ordered, "Let the woman go."

"Sure Jimmy, if that's what you want." He let go of Mrs. Hudson and pushed her down onto a chair.

James grabbed Violet's arm and pulled her across the kitchen to the back door. She turned back and called out, "Mrs. Hudson, please tell Mr. Holmes good bye for me."

* * *

Constable Brown passed by 221B Baker Street on his rounds and noticed that the front door was wide open. He entered the house and called out, "Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson! Miss Carroll! Mrs. Hudson!"

"Where is everyone? Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson must still be at Scotland Yard. Where are the ladies?" The young constable ran upstairs searching for Violet. She was nowhere to be seen. As he came back down the stairs, he heard a voice call out from below, "Down here. Please come down here!"

When he entered the kitchen he found a trembling Mrs. Hudson standing by the back door. "They took her away Constable. "

"Mrs. Hudson, who took the young miss away?" he asked her.

"Two men; one of them tall and blonde with a large mustache, the other one is short and dark haired. A nasty piece of business is that one." She involuntarily put her hand to her throat, remembering the edge of Daniel's knife blade nearly slicing her skin and wondered if Violet would survive being in the hands of those two men. Would she ever return home to Baker Street?

**Violet has been surprised, but it was certainly not what Holmes had intended. Mrs. Hudson has good reason to be concerned about the young woman's survival.**


	34. Chapter 34

**A STRANGER AT THE DOOR- CHAPTER 34- A LONG, COLD WALK**

**Dear Readers, my most humble apologies for taking so long to post this chapter! Thank you so much for your loyal support!**

* * *

Violet willing left Baker Street with James and Daniel knowing full well that she might not survive the ordeal. The young woman did not feel exceptionally brave, but she held Mrs. Hudson in such great affection that she wanted to protect her at all costs. However, this did not mean that Violet would go down without a fight. In order to lure the two men into thinking that she was compliant with their wishes, she did not struggle.

James pulled her along with a vise like grip on her arm for a while until she stopped walking and refused to take another step, causing him to stumble to a halt. Meekly she told him, "James, I am not going to run away." When he finally let go, she had to restrain herself from sighing with relief and rubbing her bruised arm. She straightened her spine, inclined her head toward him to indicate she was ready to resume walking. Violet did her best to appear to everyone they passed as a dutiful sister, obediently following her much older brother.

As they continued down the street, Violet smoothed her hair with her right hand and pushed it behind her shoulders, her fingers secretly brushing out the tortoiseshell hairpins that were still hanging in the tangled mass and let one drop from her hand periodically. It was most likely a feeble effort, but she hoped that they might leave a trail. There was nothing to lose in the attempt.

* * *

The front door of 221B Baker Street stood wide open. When the cab that Holmes and Watson were riding in pulled up to the house, the detective was out like a shot leaving his friend quite confused and having to pay the fare. The detective raced up the seventeen steps that led up to the sitting room. When he found no one there, he ran up to Violet's tiny bedroom. Where was she? He had expressly told her not to leave the house!

Watson finally caught up with Holmes in the kitchen. Mrs. Hudson was seated at the table with Constable Brown standing over her. She dabbed her red and swollen eyes with a handkerchief. The doctor rummaged around in the landlady's domain for some kind of spirits to help calm her down. "Look in the cabinet over the sink, Dr. Watson. There is a bottle of sherry there," she told him.

He located the sherry and poured her a glass. Once she had consumed all of it, Holmes asked her, "Now Mrs. Hudson, where is Miss Carroll?"

She answered, "Two men took her. One of them…" She put her hand to her throat. "One of them threatened to kill me if she did not tell them what they wanted to know. She agreed to go with them if they would leave me alone. Violet and the men knew each other. One of them, the blonde one, she called James, told her he was her half brother. " Mrs. Hudson began to sob, making Holmes quite uncomfortable. He motioned Watson to come and sit beside her.

Realizing that his landlady was in no state to give coherent answers, Holmes turned to Constable Brown for more information. "Now Constable, tell me what brought you here to be with Mrs. Hudson."

"Well Mr. Holmes, I passed by your house while walking my beat and could not help but see the front door standing wide open. I felt something was amiss and entered to find Mrs. Hudson alone and badly shaken by what had happened right before I came in." Andrew Brown hoped that the detective would not chide him for leaving the door opened after he had entered the house. The young man's concern for the occupants of the house, most particularly Violet, was so great as to not think about closing the door behind himself.

A blast of cold air blew down stairs to the kitchen bringing a new and very practical concern to Mrs. Hudson's mind. "The child left the house wearing only her dress. She has no hat or coat or even gloves to protect her from the weather. I fear she will come down with pneumonia."

There was nothing Holmes or Watson could say to comfort her concerning Violet's lack of adequate protection against the weather. The detective addressed a more critical issue; finding the young woman as quickly as possible. "Watson, stay here with Mrs. Hudson. Constable Brown and I will go and search for Miss Carroll."

"Of course," responded the doctor.

As Holmes and Andrew Brown made their way up the stairs from Mrs. Hudson's quarters to the front door, the detective instructed him to turn left and search for the young woman while he covered ground in the opposite direction.

* * *

Violet shivered involuntarily. In her haste to get James and Daniel away from Baker Street, she had not thought about the weather and the need for a coat. Now she was keenly aware of the cold for it had seeped into her bones. The need for some protection against the cold overrode her fear of what her half brother might do or say if she complained. "J…J…James, I am freezing. I left Baker Street without a coat."

He stopped and turned towards her. "You should have thought about that before we left Mr. Holmes' house. What a nuisance you are! Danny, give her your jacket."

"Aw Jimmy, its freezing cold. Do I have to?" Daniel Rutledge complained.

James huffed and answered, "Yes, you fool. I said give her your jacket."

"Oh, alright." Daniel took off his ragged, filthy jacket and put it around Violet's shoulders. As he pulled away, his hand brushed against her right breast. As she shivered in revulsion, he chuckled, "Here you are, your highness."

The pungent odor of the jacket made Violet's stomach roil. She swallowed hard and mumbled, "Thank you."

"You're welcome my lady, but you owe me, "he hissed in her ear. She swallowed hard and pushed out of her mind what sort of payment Daniel would extract from her for giving her his coat.

"Now come on, no more stops," James told her as he grabbed her arm once more. The trio walked for what seemed like miles to Violet. She had no idea where they were going and very little memory of where they had been. It was all she could do to keep up with James and Daniel's pace. Her mind was occupied with what might happen when they arrived at their destination, wherever that might be, that she had not thought to memorize the streets and buildings she passed. Besides she might not survive to make a return to Baker Street and her need to know who she was and where she came from was so powerful that she would not contemplate escape from the very man that could give her that knowledge; James Carlisle . Violet could only hope that Sherlock Holmes would find her before it was too late.

As she followed behind James, trying to keep up with his pace, Violet stumbled over a curb stone. The heel came off her once repaired shoe, skittering under a shrub. She fell and sent James sprawling on the sidewalk. Daniel guffawed at the comic scene until his partner in crime came up swinging and his fist connected with the smaller man's jaw.

Rutledge hit the ground with a thud. "Ow! Why did you hit me?"

James stood there, red faced and breathing hard. "Teach you to laugh at me, you idiot. Now get up and help my sister up as well."

Daniel stood up and pulled Violet with him, jerking her arm violently. "Clumsy, stupid gal! You're more trouble than you're worth.

Now she was freezing, her arm hurt badly and she was missing the heel from one of her shoes. It was enough to make her wish that they would soon be at their destination so she would be inside, out of the cold and no longer have to hobble to keep up with James and Daniel.

When the trio stopped walking, the two men ushered Violet into what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. Daniel fumbled around and found a candle and matches that had been left by the door. He lit the candle and they proceeded further into the dark, cold cavern like building to the far right corner where there were a couple of wooden crates. Daniel pushed her down on one of the crates and crossed over to sit beside James on the other one.

"Alright Roni, tell us what you know," James ordered her. Now she had to give him an answer. Violet's heart began to pound. What should she say? Once the truth was out; that she remembered almost nothing of her life before she was cast upon the doorstep of 221B Baker Street, what would her brother do to her?

* * *

**Hairpins and a heel from one of Violet's shoes- will these items help Holmes and Constable Brown find Violet before something bad happens to her at the hands of James and Daniel?**

**Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate reviews!**


End file.
